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''^AM1LIAR  TALKS 
ON  MUSIC 

MARY  KIMBALL  KUTCHIN 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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FAMIUAR  TALKS 
ON  MUSIC 

MARY  KIMBALL  KUTCHIN 


J  1  •V'      COI*YmaMT  1916 
^       ^MABY  KIMBALL  KUTCHIN 


PRESS  OF 

JPRRE  C.  MURPHY 

•S^N  OIBGO.  CAUFORNIA 


'^t;?i  V,- 


To  THE  Memory 

OF 

Maud  Randolph 


PREFACE 

As  a  member  of  The  Wednesday  Club  of  San 
Diego,  it  devolved  upon  me  to  lead  a  class  in 
Musical  Interpretation,  during  the  season  of 
1915-1916.  These  five  Familiar  Talks  on  Music 
are  the  result  of  the  performance  of  my  club  duty. 

The  lecture  on  the  Dvorak  and  Tchaikowski 
symphonies  was  given  at  the  request  of  the 
Women's  Board  of  the  Panama-California  In- 
ternational Exposition,  on  Thursday  evening, 
April  20th,  191^  in  the  California  Building,  just 
before  the  concerts  of  the  New  York  Symphony 
Orchestra,  on  April  22nd  and  23rd.  I  have  in- 
cluded it  here  in  compliance  with  the  wishes  of 
many  of  my  friends. 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

I 
WHAT  MUSIC  IS 

T  IS  difficult  to  speak  of  music  with- 
out indulging  in  platitudes,  yet  in  all 
platitudes  is  the  germ  of  truth.  But 
when  we  say  music  is  the  universal 
language  we  use  a  mere  figure  of 
speech — a  platitude  without  the  usual  germ  of 
truth — for,  in  the  first  place,  music  is  not  uni- 
versal either  as  a  practice  or  as  an  appeal,  and, 
in  the  second  place,  it  is  not  a  language.  The 
word  language  means  with  all  races  tongue  or 
speech,  and  in  the  production  of  music,  per  se, 
the  tongue  is  not  used — merely  the  lungs  or 
bellows,  the  vocal  cords  or  instrument,  and  the 
pharynx  or  sounding  board;  the  tongue  (langue, 
lingua,  lengua)  is  the  instrument  of  articulation, 
and  music  is  inarticulate.  In  that  fact  lies  its 
wide  appeal — it  means  nothing  to  those  who  are 
tone  deaf,  and  all  things  to  those  who  can  hear 
and  recognize  it.  Tone  deafness  is  the  inability 
to  distinguish  musical  pitch,  and  to  the  tone 
deaf  there  is  consequently  no  difference  be- 
tween music  and  noise — the  difference  between 
a  musical  sound  and  noise  is  merely  a  difference 
in  vibration.  In  music  the  vibrations  are  peri- 
odic or  regular,  in  noise  the  vibrations  are  non- 
periodic  or  irregular;  a  slight  difference  in  degree 
to  make  such  a  great  difference  in  kind. 
Ethnologists  say  that  song  came  before  speech, 

1 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

which  means  merely  that  inarticulate  sounds 
were  made  by  our  human  ancestors  before  ar- 
ticulate ones.  That  these  sounds  resembled 
song  or  music  is  impossible.  Prehistoric  man 
emitted  his  voice  on  different  pitches,  each  ejac- 
ulation having  a  primitive  meaning,  just  as  an 
infant  does  at  present.  The  infant  expresses 
quite  a  range  of  emotions  in  his  primitive  way — 
hunger,  pain,  contentment,  anger,  pleasure;  and 
while  all  his  ejaculations  are  inarticulate,  they 
are  recognized  by  his  mother,  and  perhaps  to 
her  they  mean  music,  but  they  hardly  do  to  the 
unprejudiced  auditor. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  that  the  more  civilized 
man  becomes,  the  more  monotonous  and  less 
musical  his  speech  is.  We  actually  now  eliminate 
all  inflection,  and  English,  the  most  generally 
used  of  all  languages,  is  at  the  sapie  time  least 
agreeable  and  the  flattest*  to*i^en  to — in  other 
^  >•  ViTDrds,  the-YKHea^t  musical.  The  Continental 
peoples  stfuipeak  more  or  less  musically;  they 
V  use  various  degrees  of  pitch  and  a  wide  range  of 
"^  inflections;  the  Chinese  language  is  said  to  be 
largely  a  matter  of  inflection,  the  vocabulary  be- 
ing very  small  and  each  word  having  many 
meanings,  conveyed  entirely  by  inflection  and 
pitch.  These  qualities  give  a  force  and  color  to 
speech,  altogether  lacking  in  English. 

Of  course,  the  first  music  was  produced  by  the 
human  voice.  It  is  the  original  instrument  and 
man  never  has  been  able  to  improve  on  it;  it  is 
still  and  always  will  be  the  most  delicate  and 
beautiful  of  all  instruments,  and  it  possesses  a 
power  of  appeal  to  which  even  the  tone  deaf 
are  susceptible,  although  the  fact  that  it  is  usual- 
ly allied  to  words  enhances  its  appeal  to  the  un- 

2 


WHAT  MUSIC  IS 

musical.  But  it  is  the  sound,  not  the  sense, 
which  the  musical  crave. 

Music,  to  those  who  love  it,  fulfils  every  emo- 
tional need.  Agitation  is  soothed  by  it,  depress- 
ed spirits  revived;  it  can  and  often  does  move 
us  to  tears,  but  it  can  also  make  us  inexpressibly 
happy.  Its  functions  are  the  noblest  of  any  of 
the  arts.  The  most  lofty  and  universal  of  human 
sentiments,  love,  religion,  and  patriotism,  always 
have  invoked  music  to  their  aid.  So  natural  an 
impulse  is  music,  that  is,  song,  in  the  love  of  the 
sexes  that  Darwin  was  led  to  believe  that  the 
very  origin  of  music  is  to  be  found  in  the  love 
calls  of  the  half  human  progenitors  of  mankind. 
This  impulse  has  evolved  into  one  of  the  most 
finished  and  highly  specialized  arts,  that  of  sing- 
ing, a  form  of  music  which  comes  nearer  to 
being  universal  than  any  other  expression  of 
emotion.  It  is  the  only  form  of  artistic  expres- 
sion which  any  number  of  people  can  perform 
in  the  same  manner  at  the  same  time.  This  fact 
makes  it  pre-eminently  a  social  art — it  draws 
men  nearer  by  animating  them  with  a  single 
purpose. 

All  religious  leaders  appreciate  this.  Luther's 
battle  was  half  won  when  the  people  began  to 
sing  the  hymns  of  the  Reformation.  Is  not 
music  the  chief  appeal  of  the  Salvation  Army  ? 
How  many  of  the  fallen  and  outcast  are  drawn 
to  listen  and  later  to  repent,  and  maybe  even  to 
reform,  by  the  appeal  and  power  of  its  hymns  ? 
Every  one  who  ever  has  joined  in  it  realizes  that 
there  is  no  stronger  spiritual  bond  than  congre- 
gational singing.  Much  of  the  power  of  the 
Catholic  church  is  vested  in  the  musical  setting 
of  the  Mass,  a  form  of  composition  which  has 

3 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

appealed  to  all  the  greatest  composers.  For 
centuries  what  knowledge  there  was  in  regard 
to  music  as  an  art  or  a  science  was  possessed 
exclusively  by  the  Church.  It  has  become  a 
secular  art  only  within  the  last  four  hundred 
years,  and  in  these  few  centuries  that  it  has  be- 
longed to  and  been  cultivated  by  the  common 
people  it  has  developed  more  than  in  the  thou- 
sand years  during  which  it  was  the  ward  of  the 
church. 

And  consider  it  as  an  adjunct  to  patriotism ! 
Rarely  has  a  great  crisis  arisen  in  the  history  of 
any  nation  but  that  the  pent  up  emotions  of 
patriotism,  liberty  and  justice  have  found  ex- 
pression in  stirring  music.  For  example,  noth- 
ing helped  more  to  promote  the  French  Revolu- 
tion than  the  * 'Marseillaise".  It  is  still  the  rally- 
ing cry  of  the  French  nation,  as  the  "Wacht  am 
Rhein*'  is  of  the  German  nation.  Martial  music 
is  as  important  in  war  as  arms  and  munitions. 
Its  rhythm  is  irresistible;  veterans  recount 
wonders  of  its  powers;  it  banishes  fear  and  wel- 
comes danger;  it  even  helps  the  soldier  to  die, 
for  it  represents  the  call  of  his  country. 

Some  one  has  said  that  in  times  of  the  greatest 
trial  music  has  its  supreme  function.  Who  can 
think  without  a  tear  of  the  orchestra  on  the 
'Titanic**,  marshalled  together,  playing  cheer- 
fully and  gaily  as  they  went  down  to  death  ?  Or 
who  can  think  without  a  thrill  of  a  military  band 
leading  its  regiment  into  action  and  perhaps 
annihilation?  In  such  instances  music  reaches 
its  loftiest  endeavor. 

In  the  cause  of  peace  its  services  are  equally 
effective.  It  wears  off  the  rough  edges  of  life 
and  toil;  it  is  a  safety  valve  for  the  grief-stricken 

4 


WHAT  MUSIC  IS 

heart;  it  penetrates  all  the  recesses  of  our  spir- 
itual nature,  for  it  is  the  one  pure  pleasure 
allotted  to  man.  Think  how  a  cheerful  song 
eases  labor,  how  an  inspiring  melody  will  restore 
spent  forces  (in  the  ball  room,  for  example!). 
The  reapers'  strokes  are  stronger  for  the  song 
which  accompanies  them;  the  plantation  negro 
forgets  the  sun,  the  long  hours,  when  he  sings; 
in  fact  he  is  made  to  sing  by  his  overseer  with 
that  end  in  view;  even  street  laborers  are  feeling 
the  power  of  music  when  their  implements 
pound  rhythmically  together. 

Song  always  has  been  an  accompaniment  to 
seafaring;  sailors  from  the  remotest  time  have 
sung  at  their  work.  The  ancient  Greeks  had 
their  songs  in  honor  of  Thalassa,  the  ocean. 
The  Greek  and  Phoenician  sailors  sang  just  as 
the  Italian  boatmen  do  at  the  present  time.  In 
the  days  of  the  galleys  the  slaves  at  the  oars 
were  forced  to  sing,  that  they  might  keep  time 
to  their  rowing.  The  Norsemen  were  great 
singers  of  sea  songs,  and  we  still  have  a  surviv- 
al of  this  sea  singing  in  the  wonderful  * 'chanteys" 
known  to  all  who  sail  the  seas.  The  term 
*'chantey"  comes  from  the  French  word  "chant- 
er" and  in  its  genesis  this  chorus  of  the  sailor 
was  used  to  induce  united  physical  effort  among 
a  number  of  men,  in  the  same  manner  that  a 
military  march  induces  soldiers  to  keep  in  step 
and  makes  them  forget  fatigue.  The  strong 
rhythmic  lilt  of  the  chantey  enables  a  handful  of 
men,  working  thereby  in  unison,  to  perform  the 
heaviest  tasks  of  pulling  and  hauling,  reefing 
and  hoisting  sails,  heaving  the  anchor,  and 
working  the  pumps.  After  the  captain  and  his 
officers,  the  most  important  member  of  the  crew 

5 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

is  the  chantey-man,  who  leads  the  seamen  in 
their  choruses  while  at  work.  Steam  is  driving 
the  chantey-man  and  the  singing  sailor,  just  as 
it  is  driving  the  sailing  vessel,  off  the  seas,  and 
soon  these  beautiful  melodies  threaten  to  be 
lost  if  some  effort  is  not  made  to  record  and 
preserve  them. 

And  think  of  music  in  the  home!  What  an 
influence  it  is  in  strengthening  family  ties.  A 
household  in  which  music  is  a  general  interest 
possesses  one  of  the  strongest  social  bonds,  as 
well  as  one  of  the  greatest  common  pleasures 
possible  to  it.  It  is  a  pity  that  music  is  not  cul- 
tivated more  for  its  social  influences  in  our 
American  homes.  To  hear  it  as  one  commonly 
does  in  European  families,  where  every  member 
sings,  or  plays  a  little  on  some  instrument,  and 
where  the  enjoyment  in  it  is  so  mutual,  is  to 
realize  our  loss  in  not  practicing  it  more  gener- 
ly  in  our  homes. 

And  last  but  not  least,  consider  music's  po- 
tency as  an  adjunct  to  health,  as  a  therapeutic 
agent!  It  has  a  direct  and  vital  power  over  dis- 
ease, especially  mental  and  nervous  troubles, 
and  is  used  more  and  more  as  an  influence  to 
heal  the  sick.  We  learned  this  first  when  David 
played  to  mad  Saul  and  calmed  him.  Wise  in- 
deed was  Plato  when  he  taught  that  as  gymnas- 
tic exercise  was  necessary  to  keep  the  body  in 
health,  so  was  music  necessary  to  keep  the  soul 
in  health. 

Music  is  an  accompaniment  to  and  expression 
of  every  phase  of  human  life.  We  might  para- 
phrase Shakespeare,  who  divided  man's  exist- 
ence into  seven  ages,  so  we  can  divide  music 
into  seven  epochs  of  his  existence.    Who  can 

6 


WHAT  MUSIC  IS 

imagine  a  mother  who  does  not  hush  her  child 
with  a  lullaby  ?  Even  though  she  cannot  sing 
or  may  be  unmusical,  she  hums  or  croons  over 
it  with  a  soothing  influence  nothing  can  equal. 
This  instinct  the  girl  child  repeats,  a  few  years 
later,  with  her  doll  children.  Think  of  the 
ebullient  whistle  of  the  small  boy!  It  is  a  neces- 
sary outlet  of  his  energy.  Then  comes  the  age 
of  the  musical  game.  Do  we  not  all  remember 
"Ring  around  a  Rosy,"  "London  Bridge  is 
fallin'  down,"  and  "Here  comes  a  Duke  a-rid- 
in',"  and  others  of  that  care-free  period?  Fol- 
lowing this  comes  the  age  of  the  dance,  and  then 
the  age  of  the  tender  passion,  with  the  Serenade, 
the  Reverie,  the  Nocturne,  the  Love-song,  and 
the  Rhapsodie.  The  dance  form  covers  the 
widest  range  of  expression  and  includes  besides 
the  community  dances,  the  sentimental  dances, 
war  dances  and  all  ceremonial  dances,  the  March, 
which  accompanies  us  through  life.  Were  we 
not  all  married  to  the  strains  of  Wagner  and 
Mendelssohn,  and  are  not  the  worldly  eminent 
accompanied  to  the  tomb  by  Chopin  and  Handel 
as  a  rule  ?  Music  is  a  most  poignant  part  of  a 
burial  service  as  it  is  of  a  bridal  service.  It  in- 
tensifies our  emotions  as  nothing  else  can. 

These  forms  of  which  I  have  just  spoken,  the 
lullaby,  the  game  and  the  dance,  are  the  basis  of 
all  folk  music,  which  is  a  national  racial  expres- 
sion and  one  of  the  earliest  art  forms  of  a  people. 

Music  is  the  chief  national  expression  of  two 
of  the  greatest  peoples  in  the  world — of  Italy, 
that  aristocrat  among  nations,  former  ruler  of 
the  world,  and  of  Germany,  who  seems  to  as- 
pire to  be  its  future  ruler. 

The  distribution  of  impulses  which  form  the 

7 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

national  art  expression  of  a  people  is  a  most 
wonderful  thing.  In  some  instances  we  can  see 
why  the  art  impulses  evolve  as  they  do,  acted 
upon  and  determined  by  the  life  of  the  people, 
by  climate  and  situation. 

That  the  Greeks  should  have  produced  the 
greatest  sculptors  is  due  to  their  national  life, 
which  brought  the  human  body  to  its  highest 
state  of  perfection;  but  why,  with  their  tremen- 
dous art  impulse,  should  they  not  have  express- 
ed themselves  equally  in  color,  too  ?  They  were 
surrounded  by  the  same  forms  of  nature  as  was 
Italy,  yet  the  Latins,  at  a  much  later  period, 
turned  to  painting  as  their  national  expression  of 
art;  and  it  could  scarcely  be  otherwise,  with 
their  wonderful  '*place  in  the  sun,"  their  match- 
less geographical  outlines  and  position,  they  were 
saturated  with  form  and  color.  But  so  were  the 
Greeks;  why  should  not  their  expressions  have 
been  identical  ? 

Then  why  should  the  Teuton  impulse  have 
been  toward  music  and  the  Anglo-Saxon  toward 
literature  ?  I  am  speaking  of  the  main  impulse 
of  each  of  these  races.  Each  has  produced  great 
men  in  all  lines, but  we  think  naturally  of  Greece 
in  relation  to  sculpture,  of  Italy  to  painting,  of 
Germany  to  music,  of  England  to  poetry.  Why? 

But  music  is  our  theme,  and  I  spoke  of  Italy 
and  Germany  as  being  the  tjjo  greatest  nations 
musically.  They  are  indeed  the  aristocrats 
among  the  nations,having  produced  some  of  the 
greatest  men  in  all  the  arts,  but  it  is  to  Germany 
alone  that  we  must  bow  for  the  highest  and 
noblest  expression  in  music.  What  other  nation 
has  produced  a  Bach,  a  Beethoven,  a  Brahms, 
a  Schumann,  a  Schubert,  a  Wagner?    Each  of 

8 


WHAT  MUSIC  IS 

these  men  is  supreme;  no  other  country  has  pro- 
duced a  peer  to  any  one  of  them.  What  was  the 
national  impulse  which  produced  them,  for  it  was 
no  accident  that  they  were  born  Germans?  Gen- 
iuses are  the  fine  flowering  of  the  nations  which 
produce  them,  but  back  of  their  individual  great- 
ness lie  the  emotional  and  intellectual  experiences 
of  the  race,  focussed  and  crystallized  thus  for  the 
benefit  and  advancement  of  humanity. 


The  Musical  Ilustrations  for  this  talk  were  for  the  seven 
musical  epochs: 
First— 

Berceuse, Chopin 

Second— 

Rock-a- Bye-Baby 
Third— 

Group  of  Children's  Songs 
a    Ten  Little  Injnns 
b    London  Bridge 

c    Oats,  Peas,  Beans  and  Barley  Grow 
.  d    All  Around  the  Mulberry  Bush 
e    I  put  my  right  hand  in,  I  put  my  right  hand  out 
Fourth— 

a    Minuet  ....  Boccherini 

b    Mazurka  ....  Chopin 

c    Valse Chopin 

Fifth— 

Salut  d'  Amour  ....    Elgar 

Sixth— 

Norwegian  Bridal  Procession  Grieg 

Seventh— 

March  Funebre        -       •       -  Chopin 


9 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

II 

RHYTHM 

HE  basic  elements  of  music  in  the 
order  of  their  importance  are: 
rhythm,  melody,  and  harmony. 
Rhythm  is  the  basis  of  all  music, 
from  the  rude  beating  against  a  re- 
verberating hollow  tree,  the  stamping  of  feet, 
the  clapping  of  hands,  the  grunts  and  cries  of  a 
savage  people  when  performing  any  of  their 
ceremonials,  to  the  highest  development  of  our 
most  modem  composititions. 

Rhythm  is  an  element  of  nature,  and  the  whole 
universe  responds  to  it.  The  periodic  move- 
ments of  the  constellations  must  be  rythmical  or 
the  solar  systems  would  be  annihilated;  the  re- 
turn of  the  seasons,  the  rising  and  setting  of  the 
sun,  the  rising  and  falling  of  the  tides,  all  are 
rhythmical;  the  pulse  of  life  is  rhythm,  for 
rhythm  is  the  pulsation  of  every  kind  of 
movement  and  pulsation  the  rhythm  of 
everything  that  has  life.  It  is  therefore  no  strange 
thing  that  man, 'when  performing  any  recurring 
movement,  should  naturally  fall  into  doing  it 
rhythmically;  he  cannot  avoid  it,  for  rhythm 
helps  him,  makes  it  easier,  as  it  has  a  momentum 
of  its  own. 

The  march  is  an  evolution  of  the  measured  step 
of  warriors  or  priests,  the  dance  is  an  evolution 
of  the  measured  movements  of  the  body  under 
10 


RHYTHM 

mental  or  emotional  excitement,  and  the  most 
intricate  modern  musical  rhythms  have  been 
evolved  from  these  primitive  sources. 

Walking  is  the  most  rhythmical  exercise;  the 
free  movement  of  the  feet  and  legs,  the  relaxed 
swing  of  the  arms,  and  the  regular  inhaling  and 
exhaling  of  the  breath,  should  produce  balanced 
physical  rhythm.  When  this  is  not  so,  there  is 
something  wrong  with  the  organism;  an  un- 
rhythmical gait  is  one  of  the  surest  symptoms  of 
a  mental  or  physical  defective. 

Rhythm  is  simply  balance,  as  necessary  in  the 
physical  sphere  as  in  the  mental  and  emotional 
spheres;  in  music  and  poetry  it  is  the  balancing 
of  one  strong  beat  or  part  against  one  or  two 
weak  beats  or  parts.  It  is  necessary  to  language 
in  the  same  sense  that  as  a  rhythmical  arrange- 
ment of  inarticulate  sounds  (tones)  produces 
music,  so  a  rhythmical  arrangement  of  articulate 
sounds  (words)  produces  the  cadences  of  prose 
and  poetry. 

If  the  fundamental  idea  of  rhythm  is  pulsa- 
tion, the  next  idea  should  be  order,  for  rhythm 
brings  order  into  every  kind  of  movement. 
When  exemplified  in  the  arrangement  of  matter 
into  visible  objects,  as  in  sculpture  and  architec- 
ture and  other  plastic  arts,  rhythm  is  translated 
into  symmetry.  Symmetry  is  one  of  the  chief 
requisites  of  a  work  of  art;  it  is  as  necessary  to 
that  art  which  appeals  to  the  eye  as  to  that  which 
appeals  to  the  ear-as  in  music  and  poetry.  Music 
is  chiefly  indebted  to  rhythm  for  its  order  and 
intelligibility,  and  consequently  its  power  and 
effect. 

Melody  and  harmony  spring  directly  from  the 
realm  of  tone — tone  constituting  the  composer's 

11 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

material  as  color  constitutes  that  of  the  painter 
and  words  that  of  the  poet.  But  a  succession  of 
tones  with  no  rhythmical  arrangement  would 
be  as  meaningless  as  a  mixture  of  colors  on  a 
canvas  with  no  perceptible  outline,  or  a  succes- 
sion of  words  with  no  inherent  sense.  To  pre- 
vent such  incoherence  in  music  is  the  function 
of  rhythm,  which  some  one  has  termed  "that 
special  power  which  raises  the  raw  material  of 
sound  into  higher  spheres  and  makes  it  the  in- 
telligent vehicle  of  the  composer's  idea." 

What  is  rhythm,  then?  Simply,  regular  re- 
curring accent;  nothing  more  and  nothing  less. 
We  either  accent  one  of  two,  or  one  of  three 
beats,  and,  while  there  are  many  kinds  of  com- 
pound rhythms,  they  are  all  derived  from  these 
two  and  always  resolve  themselves  into  these 
component  elements. 

Doubie  rhythm  is  the  natural  rhythm — rising 
and  falling,  action  and  reaction,  ebb  and  flow; 
our  chief  voluntary  and  involuntary  movements 
are  in  pairs.  We  inhale  and  exhale;  we  walk, 
and,  having  but  two  feet,  we  must  do  it  in  double 
time — therefore  all  marches  are  written  in  double 
time,  usually  four  simple  counts  to  a  measure. 
Sousa,  the  * 'March  King",  employed  a  com- 
pound double  time,  two  counts  to  a  measure 
and  a  triplet  or  three  equal  notes  to  a  count,  and 
it  is  this  rhythm  which  gives  such  an  irresistible 
swing  to  his  marches. 

Although  double  rhythm  is  the  natural  rhythm, 
at  one  period  (and  a  very  long  one,  when  music 
was  the  ward  of  the  Church)  triple  rhythm  was 
designated  the  perfect  rhythm,  because  three  is 
the  symbol  of  the  Trinity,  The  sign  used  for 
triple  rhythm  was  the  circle,  symbol  of  perfec- 

12 


RHYTHM 

tion,  and  we  have  still  a  relic  of  this  in  our 
modern  sign  for  "common"  or  j  time — the  capi- 
tal C,  which  stands  for  that  rhythm.  The 
circle  O  was  the  symbol  for  perfect  or  triple 
time,  so  for  imperfect  or  double  time  the  incom- 
plete circle  C,  one  with  a  segment  cut  out,  was 
used,  and  this  gradually  has  been  evolved  into 
the  letter  C.  It  is  curious  that  the  imperfect 
symbol  should  still  be  used  while  the  perfect 
symbol  long  since  has  been  discarded.  Except 
for  this  C,  which  students  who  are  not  bet- 
ter taught  imagine  to  be  the  initial  letter  of 
"common  time",  we  write  all  our  time  signa- 
tures, which  determine  the  rhythm,  in  numbers 
— always  two  numbers,  one  above  the  other; 
and  their  significance  is  invariably  the  same — the 
lower  figure  stands  for  the  kind  of  notes  and  the 
upper  figure  stands  for  the  number  of  those 
notes  (or  their  equivalents)  in  each  measure. 

Now,  as  rhythm  is  regular  recurring  accent, 
there  had  to  be  a  means  evolved  of  locating  that 
regular  recurring  accent,  and  it  was  accom- 
plished by  the  bar,  a  straight  line  drawn 
perpendicularly  across  the  staff  to  divide  the 
music  into  regular  periods  called  measures.  The 
bar  is  the  division,  the  measure  is  the  period; 
and  all  measures  must  be  of  exactly  the  same 
duration,  aUhough  their  content  can  be  diversi- 
fied inimitably.  This  makes  musical  metre  infin- 
itely richer  than  poetical  metre,  which  latter  has 
but  one  positive  length  and  one  positive  short- 
ness in  its  syllables,  while  in  music  any  note 
may  be  "length",  because  it  may  be  subdivided 
or  shortened  many  times;  and  any  note  may  be 
"shortness",  because  it  may  be  doubled  or  aug- 
mented many  times. 

13 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

As  the  bar  shows  where  the  measure  begins 
it  determines  the  accent,  which  in  all  rhythms 
falls  on  the  first  beat  or  count.  We  count  one- 
two,  one-two,  one-two-three,  one-two-three; 
never  one-two  or  one-Avo-three  or  one-two- 
three. 

We  have  a  wonderful  device  in  music  for  di- 
verting this  regular  accent  and  thereby  produc- 
ing unlimited  varieties  of  rhythm,  and  that  is 
syncopation.  Syncopation  is  simply  the  dis- 
placement of  the  regular  accent. 

A  syncope  is  an  omission,  a  leaving  out;  a  syn- 
cope of  the  heart  is  the  skipping  of  a  beat.  And 
syncopation  in  music  is  the  displacement  of  the 
regular  accent — not  by  skipping  the  count,  which 
is  as  impossible  as  skipping  the  second  on  which 
the  heart  leaves  out  a  beat,  but  by  leaving  out 
the  note  on  the  accented  count.  In  syncopation 
of  the  heart,  as  in  syncopation  of  music,  time 
goes  on  but  the  heartbeat  or  the  note  is  left  out. 
There  is  this  vast  difference  in  the  analogy, 
however:  the  heart  never  recovers  its  lost  beat, 
but  the  musical  accent  is  never  lost;  it  is  simply 
displaced  and  must  fall  on  the  first  ensuing  note 
following  its  regular  omission.  We  can  artificial- 
ly place  an  accent  on  any  beat  or  count  of  the 
measure,  and  when  we  place  an  accent  on  an 
unaccented  part  of  the  measure  we  produce  syn- 
copation. Syncopation  can  be  produced  in  three 
ways:  by  a  rest,  by  a  tie,  or  by  a  special  accent. 
If  we  omit  a  note  and  substitute  a  rest  at  the 
beginning  of  a  measure,  the  natural  accent,  the 
energy  of  beginning,  will  have  to  fall  on  the  first 
ensuing  note,  no  matter  which  count  it  falls  on. 
This  produces  syncopation  by  a  rest.  We  can 
tie  the  first  note  or  notes  (if  they  are  the  same) 

14 


RHYTHM 

in  a  measure  to  the  last  one  in  the  previous 
measure,  and  the  effect  is  silence  on  the  first 
count  or  counts,  giving  the  delayed  accent  to 
whichever  count  has  a  note  to  it.  This  is  synco- 
pation by  a  tie.  Then  there  is  the  special  accent, 
which  can  be  placed  arbitrarily  on  any  unac- 
cented note.  This  is  the  third  way  of  producing 
syncopation. 

And  now  we  are  arriving  at  the  point  where 
we  begin  with  musical  interpretation,  which  is 
simply  the  proper  observance  of  accents.  Mu- 
sical accents  are  of  two  kinds:  grammatical  and 
musical.  The  former  are  metrical  and  rhythmi- 
cal and  have  to  do  with  the  form;  the  latter  are 
emotional  and  aesthetic  and  have  to  do  with  the 
content. 

Music,  the  most  direct  translation  of  emotion 
into  consciousness  in  art,  is  as  subject  to  form 
as  architecture.  In  the  infancy  and  youth  of  its 
development,  one  may  say  indeed  to  its  full  ma- 
turity, music  was  the  creature  and  slave  of  form. 

Beethoven,  the  Titan  among  giants,  poured 
his  immortal  works  into  the  forms  he  found, 
although  he  moulded  them  somewhat  to  his 
purpose.  In  Beethoven  the  union  of  content 
and  form  in  its  strict  classic  sense  achieved  per- 
fection; his  matchless  emotional  intensity  filled 
the  classic  forms  to  their  uttermost  expression. 
He  left  nothing  further  to  say  in  the  patterns  he 
so  sublimely  used. 

After  him  a  change  had  to  come,  and  it  came 
in  the  forms  and  in  the  content  which  changed 
those  forms.  The  Classic  School  culminated  in 
Beethoven.  After  him  came  the  Romantic  School 
in  which  form  became  much  more  free.  The 
Sonata  and  Symphony  began  to  be  discarded. 

15 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

Composers  fitted  the  forms  to  their  ideas  and 
invented  new  forms.  Schubert  invented  the  new 
song-form,  or  Lied;  Chopin  and  Schumann,  the 
new  instrumental  forms,  the  Nocturne,  Reverie, 
Intermezzo;  Liszt,  the  new  orchestral  form,  the 
Symphonic  Poem;  and  Wagner,  the  new  opera 
form,  the  Music-Drama.  Thus  music  was  re- 
bom.  We  are  now  arriving  at  a  formless  age 
and  music  seems  to  be  declining  as  an  art.  But 
even  now,  when  the  classic  forms  are  entirely 
discarded  and  each  composer  makes  his  own 
moulds,  music  must  still  retain  outlines — for  in- 
coherence is  death  to  art — and  these  outlines  are 
still  called  form. 

The  class  of  ultra-modem  composers  who  en- 
dorse the  present-day  tendencies  to  elimination 
of  form  as  the  triumph  of  feeling  over  conven- 
tion, and  thereby  a  closer  approach  to  truth, 
overlook  the  fact  that  adaptation  of  parts  to  a 
whole  is  as  much  a  condition  of  art  as  it  is  of 
life  itself. 

Here  I  must  give  a  short  explanation  of  mus- 
ical form,  that  you  may  have  an  idea  of  the 
shape  of  a  musical  composition. 

Musical  compositions  are  divided  into  parts 
called  periods.  A  period  in  music  is  what  a  com- 
pletely expressed  thought  is  in  grammar.  A  peri- 
ed  usually  consists  of  eight  measures,  often  one 
or  two  more  or  less,  but  so  frequently  eight  as 
to  make  it  the  standard;  two  periods  embody  a 
melody,  usually.  Almost  all  melodies,  as  most 
people  hear  and  comprehend  them,  are  of  the 
sixteen-measure  or  two-period  type,  the  first 
period  ending  in  what  is  called  a  half  cadence, 
the  second  in  a  complete  cadence.  These  peri- 
ods are  divided  in  halves,  called  phrases,  and 

16 


RHYTHM 

phrases  are  further  subdivided  into  halves,  called 
sections.  Sections  usually  consist  of  two  meas- 
ures, followed,  figuratively  speaking,  by  a  com- 
ma; two  sections,  or  four  measures,  a  phrase, 
followed  by  a  semi-colon;  and  two  phrases,  or 
eight  measures,  a  period,  followed  by  a  full  stop. 

What  I  have  said  on  the  subject  of  form  may  be  well 
illustrated  by  playing  the  following  compositions: 
Of  the  regular  16-measure,  2-period  type,  familiar  exam- 
ples are 

John  Brown's  Body  Auld  Lang  Syne 

Nearer,  my  God  to  Thee        Soldier's  Farewell 
16  measures,  with  coda  or  close  of  two  extra  measures 

Sweet  and  Low 
12  measures  with  2-measure  coda 

My  Country,  'tis  of  Thee 
8-measure,  1 -period  melody 

Old  Hundred 
Examples  of  unusual  rhythms 

Studies  in  Forgotten  Rythms      -        Arensky 
Prelude  in  %  time  -     Schuett 

Prelude  in  G  min.       -        -        -         Schuett 
Second  movement  Pathetic  Symphony  - 

Tchaikowski 

Supplementary  Studies  in  Rhythm       Chopin 


17 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

m 

MELODY  AND  HARMONY 

N  OUR  last  talk,  devoted  to  Rhythm, 
we  touched  on  Melody  in  regard  to 
its  form.  Now  we  will  examine  its 
nature.  A  melody  is  a  succession 
of  rhythmically  arranged  tones,  dif- 
fering in  pitch,  expressing  a  musical  idea.  The 
relation  of  the  tones  to  each  other  and  to  the 
whole  idea  should  be  so  consistent  and  logical  as 
to  make  the  sequence  seem  inevitable  and  in- 
separable. We  realize  this  when  we  try  to  recall 
a  melody;  each  phrase  recalls  the  succeeding  one 
and  we  feel  how  homogeneous  they  all  are.  It 
is  said  that  the  power  of  a  melody  to  haunt  the 
consciousness  is  a  proof  of  our  subjective  mind. 
Have  we  not  all  been  distracted  by  a  recurring 
melody  in  our  minds — dominated  by  it  by  day, 
even  waking  up  in  the  night  mentally  humming  it? 
It  is  curious  that  a  melody,  which  exists  in 
time  and  not  in  space,  one  of  the  most  evanes- 
cent things  in  life,  like  a  thought  or  an  emotion, 
makes  the  deepest  impression  on  the  conscious- 
ness of  any  art  form.  We  are  able  to  preserve 
it  in,  and  evoke  it  from,  the  consciousness,  whole 
and  with  all  its  details,  just  as  it  is  in  fact.  We 
can  hear  it  with  our  mind's  ear,  far  better  than 
we  can  see  in  detail  with  our  mind's  eye  a  paint- 
ing, a  sculpture,  or  any  form  of  plastic  art,  and 
also  far  better  than  we  can  recall  a  poem  or  a 
IS 


MELODY  AND  HARMONY 

story,  of  which  we  usually  retain  only  the  idea, 
not  the  form,  unless  we  have  memorized  it. 
And  the  reason  lies  in  the  fact  that  in  music  the 
form  and  the  substance  are  one,  the  matter  and 
the  expression  identical — in  other  words,  we  are 
concerned  with  the  thing  itself  and  not  with  the 
representation  of  it.  It  seems  remarkable  that 
a  direct  presentation  of  life  is  so  much  more 
telling  than  the  most  faithful  or  artistic  r^-pre- 
sentation  of  it  can  be.  A  melody  is  not  a  re-pre- 
sentation of  a  thing,  but  the  thing  itself;  hence 
its  power.  If  rhythm  is  the  foundation  of  music, 
melody  is  its  soul,  its  most  universally  appealing 
quality  to  the  musically  cultured  and  ignorant 
alike. 

Rhythm  is  a  sub-conscious  or  sensuous  impres- 
sion, whereas  melody  is  a  conscious  or  intellect- 
ual impression,  but  the  union  of  the  two  is  nec- 
essary to  produce  music;  for  rhythm  without 
melody  is  motion  without  musical  variety,  and 
melody  without  rhythm  is  musical  variety  with- 
out order. 

Melody  in  its  infancy  was  a  very  simple  thing, 
of  regular  outlines  and  accents,  so  few  and 
evenly  balanced  that  the  mind  could  without 
difficulty  follow  the  design  and  receive  an  im- 
pression of  something  definite  and  complete. 

It  is  a  remarkable  thing  that  most  melodies  are 
conceived  in  metrical  form  and  outline,  as  was 
explained  in  our  talk  on  rhythm.  The  simple 
melodies  which  have  stood  the  test  of  years, 
such  as  * 'Annie  Laurie,"  ''Coming  through  the 
Rye,"  "Last  Rose  of  Summer,"  "Way  down 
upon  the  Swanee  River,"  "Auld  Lang  Syne," 
and  countless  others,  are  all  of  the  regular  eight 
measure  type;  and  probably  never  will  be  super- 

19 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

seded  in  the  affections  of  music  lovers  and  never 
will  become  old-fashioned,  no  matter  how  taste 
in  melody  may  progress  or  evolve. 

Wagner  contemptuously  called  these  "tunes", 
to  distinguish  them  from  melodies  in  which  such 
simple  proportions  are  avoided.  But  these 
* 'tunes"  are  the  basis  of  all  folksongs  and  hymns, 
and  of  countless  themes  of  surpassing  beauty  by 
the  greatest  composers — without  which  music 
would  be  poor  indeed,  and  they  have  a  power 
of  appeal  altogether  lacking  in  melodies  of  the 
modern  schools. 

Melody  has  evolved  from  the  monotonous 
chanting  of  our  remote  ancestors  (still  the  prac- 
tice of  barbarous  nations),  to  the  most  lofty  in- 
spiration of  a  Schubert  song.  Melody  reached 
its  flood  tide  in  and  immediately  succeeding  the 
Romantic  period.  Schubert,  Schumann,  Chopin, 
Brahms,  Franz — these  are  the  golden  names  in 
melodic  inspiration,  and  their  period  was  also 
the  flood  tide  of  German  poetry.  Gcethe,  Heine, 
Schiller,  Herder,  Chamisso,  were  uttering  their 
immortal  lyrics,  so  perfectly  adapted  to  song. 
What  more  natural  than  that  they  should  inspire 
the  immortal  melodies  to  which  they  have  been 
set,  a  priceless  heritage  for  an  eternity  of  mus- 
ical endeavor? 

Up  to  the  period  of  the  Romantic  School 
musical  metre  was  made  to  conform  closely  to 
the  poetical  metre,  so  that  a  sixteen-measure 
melody  would  fit  a  verse;  the  other  verses,  no 
matter  how  varied  their  sentiment,  were  then 
sung  to  the  same  melody,  with  no  variation. 
Mozart  introduced  slight  changes  in  the  accom- 
paniment, and  a  coda,  or  tail,  to  vary  the  mo- 
notony. This  form  constitutes  the  ballad. 

20 


MELODY  AND  HARMONY 

With  Schubert  and  Schumann  came  the 
"durch  componiertes  Lied",  the  "through  com- 
posed song".  Of  this  form  Schubert's  *'Erl- 
koenig"  is  a  great  example;  although  there  are 
eight  stanzas,  the  music  is  composed  to  express 
the  sentiment  of  the  poem  all  the  way  through; 
the  listener  is  not  conscious  of  the  song  being 
in  verse;  it  is  a  drama,  a  tragedy;  set  to  won- 
derfully suggestive  and  dramatic  music,  enrich- 
ing the  poem  beyond  expression  in  words. 

The  "through  composed  song"  is  the  chief 
form  now  used,  and  the  more  dramatic  and 
complex  the  subject  the  more  the  appeal  to  the 
modern  song  writer,  with  his  amazing  technical 
skill.  Richard  Strauss,  Hugo  Wolf,  and  Carl 
Lcewe,  three  of  the  foremost  modem  song 
writers,  compose  wonderful  songs  from  an  ex- 
pressive and  dramatic  viewpoint,  but  the  major- 
ity of  listeners  hear  little  if  any  melody.  As 
musical  beauty  lies  in  the  melodic  idea,  the  sim- 
pler the  idea  the  more  definite  the  impression 
produced;  as  the  outline  becomes  more  com- 
plex the  impression  naturally  becomes  less 
definite,  and  in  modern  melodies  the  average 
music  lover  becomes  lost  in  a  maze  of  confused 
impressions,  and  ends  by  failing  to  recognize  any 
melodic  outline  at  all,  and  declares  he  doesn't 
understand  modern  music.  We  often  hear  this 
said  by  the  untaught  music  lover  of  classic  music. 
The  average  listener  doesn't  understand  popular 
music,  a  march  or  a  waltz,  any  better,  but  the 
definite  impression  he  receives  makes  him  think 
he  does. 

Spontaneity  and  freshness  of  musical  inven- 
tion are  almost  lost  qualities;  composers  can  and 
do  write  highly  colored,  elaborate  songs,  but  a 

21 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

simple  melody  to  touch  the  heart  is  the  rarest 
occurrence  these  days.  If  melodic  invention, 
however,  seems  to  be  in  abeyance,  composers' 
minds  are  running  riot  in  harmonic  invention, 
perhaps  to  atone  for  the  paucity  of  melody. 

Harmony  is  the  last  element  to  enter  music 
as  an  art,  but  it  has  made  the  most  wonderful 
strides  of  all,  and  it  is  impossible  to  prophesy 
whither  it  will  finally  lead  us.  For  over  a  thous- 
and years  the  history  of  music  was  that  of  song, 
at  first  in  unison,  then  with  the  reluctant  admis- 
sion of  one,  two,  three  and  more  parts.  With 
these  harmony  was  introduced,  and  we  are  still 
making  reluctant  admissions  to  it  and  no  doubt 
will  continue  to  do  so  to  the  end.  Harmony 
always  has  been  a  vexed  and  mooted  question — 
always  has  broken  barriers  and  is  still  breaking 
them  and  arrogating  to  itself  combinations  and 
methods  which  would  cause  even  Wagner  to  sit 
up  and  rub  his  ears  in  wonder  at  what  he  heard. 

Harmony  is  two  or  more  tones  sounded  at 
the  same  time.  Music,  as  I  have  said,  was  orig- 
inally song;  instrumental  music  came  later,  as 
instruments  were  invented  and  evolved.  Song 
at  first  was  in  unison;  in  primitive  times,  when 
people  sang  together,  the  first  change  from  the 
unison  was  the  octave;  so  the  octave  is  the  first 
musical  interval,  evolved  naturally  by  the  fact 
that  men's  voices  are  lower  than  women's— and 
the  men  whose  voices  were  deep  sang  the  same 
tones  that  the  women  did,  an  octave  lower. 

Our  modern  scale  of  eight  tones  has  been 
divided  into  twelve  equal  intervals  called  semi- 
tones, the  eighth  tone  being  a  repetition  of  the 
first  in  a  higher  pitch  and  called  the  octave.  The 
eighth  tone  or  octave  seems  to  give  the  same 

22 


MELODY  AND  HARMONY 

sound  in  a  higher  pitch,  owing  to  the  fact  that  it 
has  twice  the  number  of  vibrations  as  the  note 
from  which  it  is  counted,  one  vibration  in  two 
being  synchronous  with  each  vibration  of  the 
lower  tone. 

The  second  interval  to  be  adopted  was  the 
fifth,  which  was  found  to  have  one  and  one-half 
vibrations  to  one  of  the  key  note,  or  a  propor- 
tion of  two  to  three,  one  vibration  in  three  being 
synchronous.  The  fifth  being  consonant  with 
the  key  note  or  tonic,  it  is  equally  consonant 
with  the  octave  of  the  key  note,  of  which  it  is  the 
fourth  below,  and  the  vibrational  proportions  of 
the  fourth  to  the  octave  are  as  three  to  four,  one 
synchronous  beat  in  twelve.  In  these  three  in- 
tervals, the  octave,  fifth  and  fourth,  the  syn- 
chronous vibrations  occur  much  more  frequent- 
ly than  in  any  of  the  others,  making  them  con- 
sequently more  consonant  in  their  effect,  and 
they  are  therefore  called  Perfect  Intervals;  all 
the  others,  the  second,  third,  sixth  and  seventh, 
are  called  Imperfect.  After  long  usage  of  these 
combinations,  empty  to  our  modern  ears,  the 
third,  half  way  between  the  tonic  and  the  fifth, 
was  admitted.  This  is  one  of  the  most  important 
intervals,  as  it  determines  the  Mode,  Major  or 
Minor;  with  it  came  its  inversion,  the  sixth.  The 
seventh,  very  important  from  a  melodic  view- 
point, as  it  is  the  "Leading  Tone",  which  instinct- 
ively leads  the  ear  into  the  tonic,  was  the  last 
interval  admitted;  with  it  and  its  inversion  the 
second,  our  diatonic  scale  of  eight  tones,  count- 
ing the  octave,  was  complete. 

These  seven  tones  of  the  diatonic  scale,  each 
with  its  sharp  and  flat,  constitute  the  material  of 
which  music  is  composed.  They  are  named  after 

23 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

the  first  seven  letters  of  the  alphabet,  and  under- 
lie the  realm  of  music  as  the  seven  primary  col- 
ors underlie  the  realm  of  painting. 

It  seems  a  wonderful  coincidence  that  the 
music  scale  should  be  composed  of  seven 
tones,  and  the  color  scale  of  seven  colors;  seven 
is  indeed  a  potent  as  well  as  mystic  number  in 
these  two  arts. 

Beautiful  melody  and  harmony  have  been  pro- 
duced with  these  tones,  and  for  centuries  they 
have  been  the  chief  material  with  which  com- 
posers have  dealt.  Now  these  diatonic  composi- 
tions sound  crude  to  our  ears  attuned  to  modern 
chromatic  harmonies,  just  as  pictures  painted  in 
the  primary  colors  seem  crude  to  our  eyes  ac- 
customed to  modern  chromatic  coloring. 

Music  is  developing  more  and  more  along 
chromatic  lines,  (the  chromatic  scale  being  all 
semitones)  harmonic  combinations  are  becoming 
closer,  their  outlines  vaguer.  Composers 
are  experimenting  with  and  adopting  overtones 
and  fundamental  tones  in  their  harmonic  combi- 
nations, producing  exotic  effects  undreamed  of 
a  century  ago.  It  is  as  though  they  were  try- 
ing to  express  themselves  in  half  tints;  while 
painting  seems  to  be  becoming  more  direct,  to 
be  reverting  to  the  drawing  and  coloring  of  the 
earliest  infancy  of  the  art. 

But  to  revert  to  harmony:  An  interval  is  the 
difference  in  pitch  between  two  tones — we  start 
from  any  tone  and  call  it  our  tonic  or  keynote; 
the  tone  above  is  its  second,  the  tone  above  that 
its  third  and  so  forth,  the  eighth  tone  is  the 
octave  and  the  tone  above  that  the  ninth,  and  so 
on  indefinitely,  as  long  as  we  keep  the  same 
tonic.     Before   Bach   conceived    and    adopted 

24 


MELODY  AND  HARMONY 

Equal  Temperament,  the  pitch  of  these  tones 
was  quite  uncertain,  as  it  was  impossible  to  get 
instruments  in  tune,  and  when  they  were  so  as 
nearly  as  possible,  according  to  the  system  that 
prevailed  before  Bach,  only  a  few  keys  could 
be  utilized.  To  explain  one  of  the  chief  difficul- 
ties, the  difference  in  pitch  between  any  tone 
and  the  whole  tone  above  or  below  it  is  nine 
commas,  or  subdivisions;  it  is  actually  five  com- 
mas from  C  to  C  sharp  and  five  also  from  D  to 
D  flat,  so  that  C  sharp  and  D  flat  are  of  different 
pitch.  Therefore,  if  an  instrument  were  tuned 
in  sharps,  the  keys  in  flats  were  horribly  out  of 
tune,  and  vice  versa.  This  of  course  was  true 
only  of  instruments  with  fixed  tones,  like  the 
organ  and  piano,  but  they  were  the  most  im- 
portant then,  just  as  they  are  today. 

Bach  conceived  the  perfectly  simple  but  truly 
wonderful  idea  of  dividing  the  diatonic  scale  of 
seven  tones,  each  with  its  sharp  and  flat,  making 
twenty-one  semi-tones,  into  a  chromatic  scale  of 
twelve  equal  semitones,  as  it  is  today,  and  will 
be  tomorrow  and  ever  after.  In  this  way,  the 
flats  and  sharps  are  interchangeable  on  the  piano 
and  organ  and  other  keyed  instruments.  This  is 
called  the  Tempered  Scale  and  Bach  wrote  a 
series  of  wonderful  preludes  and  fugues  in  all 
the  major  and  minor  scales,  to  afford  practice  in 
all  the  unfamiliar  keys,  calling  the  collection 
'The  well-tempered  Clavichord"  (Clavichord 
was  what  the  piano  was  called  in  his  day),  and 
it  was  the  first  time  that  such  chromatic  pieces 
were  possible  on  a  keyed  instrument.  This 
method  of  tuning  is  called  "Equal  Tempera- 
ment" to  distinguish  it  from  True  Temperament, 
which  latter  has  a  wonderful  quality  entirely 

25 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

lacking  in  the  former  because  it  is  true,  whereas 
the  former  is  expedient. 

True  temperament  is  what  gives  such  great 
charm  to  string  music  and  to  unaccompanied 
part-singing;  the  players  and  singers  naturally 
fall  into  true  temperament;  when  they  are  play- 
ing in  D  flat  for  instance,  they  lower  all  the  in- 
tervals and  sing  in  flats,  and  not  in  sharps  too. 
All  string  instruments  play  naturally  in  true 
temperament  if  the  players  have  a  true  ear,  and 
it  is  no  joke  when  the  piano  is  sometimes  de- 
clared to  be  out  of  tune  with  the  singer  or  in- 
strumentalist it  accompanies — it  is  out  of  tune 
not  only  then,  but  always. 

The  basis  of  our  system  of  harmony  is  the 
Common  Chord  or  Triad,  i.  e.,  a  note  with  its 
third  and  fifth;  this  common  chord  may  be 
Major,  Minor,  Augmented  or  Diminished,  but  it 
is  a  triad  just  the  same.  In  the  major  and  minor 
forms  it  produces  a  feeling  of  repose,  and  in  all 
save  the  works  of  the  ultra-modern  schools  it  is 
the  natural  close,  on  the  tonic,  of  every  musical 
composition.  The  common  chords  on  the  tonic, 
and  on  the  fifth  (called  the  dominant),  and  the 
fourth  (called  the  sub-dominant),  fix  a  key  or 
scale,  because  they  contain  all  the  notes  of  that 
scale  to  which  they  belong;  these  three  chords 
will  also  furnish  an  accompaniment  to  any  sim- 
ple melody,  which  may  wander  around  in  the 
scale  as  it  will,  but  should  always  conclude  on 
the  tonic  chord. 

A  startling  innovation  in  modem  music  is  the 
elimination  of  the  key  signature  and  therefore 
any  relation  to  a  tonality.  It  is  like  building  a 
house  without  walls  or  supports;  to  my  mind  it 
is  not  music,  any  more  than  a  house  can  be  a 

26 


MELODY  AND  HARMONY 

house  without  supports.  It  is  bad  enough  when 
the  modern  composer  refuses  to  return  to  his 
tonic  when  he  is  finished,  it  is  like  failing  to 
return  home;  but  it  is  not  so  bad  as  breaking  all 
the  ties  that  bind  him  to  home  and  becoming 
forever  a  wanderer  on  the  earth,  as  the  modem 
composer  is  becoming. 

The  self-expression  music  affords  has  degen- 
erated into  license  and  has  no  longer  a  reason 
for  being.  Music  is  an  art  to  enrich  life,  to  make 
it  better.  If  it  has  no  deep  message  from  a  mus- 
ical view-point,  it  should  have  from  a  decorative 
view-point;  this  latter  is  the  only  message  the 
moderns  seem  to  have;  their  patterns,  their  de- 
signs are  wonderful,  elaborate  and  intricate;  so 
masterly  that  techniqe  is  the  end  in  itself,  and 
for  that  admirable,  but  the  ultra-modems  do  not 
even  offer  that  excuse.  They  discard  pattern 
and  design,  even  technique;  what  they  write 
vapors  or  storms  along,  much  like  "a  tale  told 
by  an  idiot,  full  of  sound  and  fury,  signifying 
nothing." 


The  illustrations  for  this  talk  were: 

Annie  Laurie  Comin'  through  the  Rye 

Last  Rose  of  Summer 

Old  Folks  at  Home        Auld  Lang  Syne 
Auf  Fluegeln  des  Gesanges      Mendelssohn -Liszt 
Etude  Op.  10,  No.  3        -        -        -        -    Chopin 
Nocturne,  Op.  37,  No.  2     -        -        -        Chopin 
Song  from  Sea  Pieces     -        -        -     MacDowell 

Humoreske Dvorak 

Intermezzo  Eb.  Op.  117  -        -  Brahms 

Variations  and  Fugue  on  a  Handel  Theme  Brahms 


27 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

IV 

WHAT  MUSIC  MEANS 

OW  often  do  we  hear  the  assertion 
*'I  know  nothing  of  music,"  and 
how  often  is  it  made  in  an  appar- 
ently boastful  spirit,  as  though  it 
need  not  be  a  subject  of  regret. 
Such  an  assertion  indicates  a  deeper  ignorance 
than  is  apparent,  for  it  not  only  indicates  a  lack 
of  musical  knowledge,  but  it  also  betrays  ignor- 
ance of  the  important  fact  that  music  has  a  seri- 
ous claim  on  the  intelligence. 

In  no  other  art  is  such  ignorance  tolerated. 
People  who  boast  of  any  mental  culture  are  pre- 
sumed to  be  cognizant  of  what  is  greatest  in  the 
arts  and  sciences;  at  least  they  should  know 
what  the  great  achievements  are,  and  many  use 
the  catch  words  and  technical  phrases  with  some 
familiarity.  This  at  least  is  expected  of  them, 
but  their  ignorance  of  the  art  of  music  is  in  very 
many  cases  profound. 

Distinguished  men  of  letters  often  reveal  this 
ignorance  in  an  astonishing  degree.  Schopen- 
hauer, who  knew  so  much  of  the  nature  of 
music,  knew  little  of  the  art,  and  had  execrable 
taste.  George  Moore,  by  many  considered  a 
literary  authority  on  musical  matters  because  he 
has  written  several,  socalled,  musical  novels, 
makes  statements  quite  at  variance  with  the  facts 
and  discourses  vaguely  regarding  his  unsound 

28 


WHAT  MUSIC  MEANS 

musical  theories.  And  there  are  many  others 
who  expose  a  lamentable  ignorance  of  a  subject 
on  which  they  do  not  hesitate  to  expatiate. 

The  reason  lies  in  the  fact  that  music,  the  most 
appealing  of  the  arts,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
most  democratic,  is,  like  the  drama,  commonly 
used  as  a  recreation  and  pastime  by  all  classes; 
and  those  who  regard  it  as  such  never  seem  to 
consider  that  it  is  of  any  intellectual  profit,  or 
that  it  can  demand  any  serious  mental  applica- 
tion. But  it  has  its  deeply  intellectual  side  and 
requires  close  application  and  serious  study  for 
one  to  become  even  an  intelligent  listener,  much 
more  to  become  an  intelligent  performer,  and 
most  of  all  to  become  a  composer. 

Now  what  is  meant  by  the  listener  who  as- 
serts that  he  does  not  understand  music  ?  What 
does  he  want  ?  Does  he  expect  a  definite  story 
or  picture,  something  with  a  limited  meaning 
which  can  be  explained  in  words  ?  Words  are 
symbols  which  have  been  evolved  by  association 
with  certain  objects  and  concepts  until  the  people 
using  them  agree  that  they  shall  stand  for  them, 
but  there  are  no  tones  or  combinations  of  tones 
which  have  been,  or  ever  will  be,  adopted  as 
symbols  of  thought  or  perception.  Language 
defines  and  limits — music  cannot  define  and  does 
not  limit.  When  appealed  to  by  tone  alone  we 
are  transported  to  a  boundless  sphere,  where 
our  imagination  is  quickened  and  we  can  trans- 
late any  meaning  into  the  sounds  we  hear. 

John  Addington  Symonds  says  truly,  "The 
sphere  of  music  is  in  sensuous  perception; 
music,  dealing  with  pure  sound,  must  always 
be  vaguer  in  significance  than  poetry  which  deals 
with  words.  We  cannot  fail  to  understand  what 

29 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

words  are  intended  to  convey — we  may  very 
easily  interpret  in  a  hundred  ways  the  message 
of  sound.  If  music  reaches  the  thinking  faculty 
at  all,  it  is  through  the  fibres  of  emotion.  But 
emotion,  when  it  has  become  thought,  has  al- 
ready lost  a  portion  of  its  force,  and  has  taken 
to  itself  a  something  alien  to  its  nature.  There- 
fore the  message  of  music  can  never  be  rightly 
translated  into  words." 

And  Walter  Pater  says,  * 'Music  is  the  true 
type  and  measure  of  perfected  arts,  because  it 
presents  no  words,  no  matter  of  sentiment  or 
thought  separable  from  the  form  in  which  it  is 
conveyed  to  us." 

But  if  music  presents  no  words  or  definite 
ideas  to  us,  it  is  full  of  suggestion  and  this  sug- 
gestion is  of  many  kinds — of  rhythm,  of  pitch, 
of  motion,  of  sound,  of  timbre,  of  tone  color. 

The  most  naive  form  of  suggestion  in  music 
is  the  imitation  of  sounds  in  nature:  the  singing 
of  birds,  the  rushing  of  winds,  the  rustling  of 
leaves,  the  trickling  of  water,  the  rolling  of  thun- 
der. These  are  familiar  things,  as  are  the  sug- 
gestion of  approach  by  increase  and  of  with- 
drawal by  decrease  of  tone  volume. 

The  influence  of  recurring  sounds  and  rhythms 
has  something  almost  hypnotic  in  its  suggestion. 
It  is  the  basis  of  the  appeal  of  the  military  march; 
men  instinctively  move  forward  to  it,  just  as  the 
feet  of  one  who  loves  dancing  move  involunta- 
rily to  the  lilting  strains  of  the  ballroom.  This 
has  an  analogy  in  poetry.  Poe's  *The  Bells" 
and  *'The  Raven",  and  Tennyson's  'The  Lady 
of  Shalott"  are  notable  examples  of  this  form  of 
suggestion. 

Then  we  have  the  suggestion  of  figure  or  de- 

30 


WHAT  MUSIC  MEANS 

sign:  the  whirring  of  the  spinning  wheel,  the 
rocking  motion  of  the  cradle  song,  the  rolling 
movement  of  the  barcarolle;  all  composers  have 
used  similar  figures  to  suggest  these  things.  A 
spring  or  fountain  or  rivulet  is  suggested  by 
rapidly  running  scales  and  arpeggios. 

The  suggestion  of  pitch  is  a  very  strong  one. 
When  vibrations  become  excessively  rapid  they 
cease  to  be  sound,  and  become  light.  This  all 
composers  feel,  and  we  get  the  suggestion  of 
light  and  space  from  our  highest  musical  sounds, 
and  of  mystery  and  obscurity  from  our  lowest 
ones.  Chopin  so  wonderfully  exemplifies  this 
in  his  well  known  Funeral  March  from  the  B 
flat  minor  Sonata.  Sadness  and  gloom  are  in- 
troduced in  the  opening  phrase,  there  are  slight 
bursts  of  hope,  of  relief  from  grief  and  depres- 
sion as  the  phrases  ascend,  but  the  impression 
throughout  is  one  of  profound  sadness.  How 
wonderful  the  contrast  with  the  heavenly  melody 
of  the  middle  part!  Here  hope  and  light  come 
out  tenderly  and  radiantly,  the  effect  being  pro- 
duced by  the  high  pitch  of  the  melody  and  the 
diaphanous  web  of  the  simple  accompaniment. 

Then  timbre  has  unlimited  powers  of  sugges- 
tion, the  timbre  of  different  instruments — as  we 
associate  the  horn  with  forests  and  hunting,  the 
flute  with  pastoral  scenes,  and  the  drum  and  fife 
with  martial  movements.  The  trumpet  has  a 
language  of  its  own  in  the  army,  the  reveille, 
the  call  to  arms,  and  taps  which  is  sounded 
always  at  the  close  of  day  and  also  over  the 
graves  of  soldiers  as  a  farewell. 

Modern  tone  color  as  exemplified  in  the  mod- 
ern orchestra,  with  its  multitude  of  different  in- 
struments, was  a   quality  not  possessed  by  the 

31 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

classic  writers.  As  I  have  said  before,  Beetho- 
ven's was  the  last  word  in  the  symphony  and 
the  sonata.  There  have,  of  course,  been  great 
symphonies  and  sonatas  written  since:  Schubert, 
Schumann,  Brahms,  and  others  have  written 
them,  but  Beethoven  towers  above  them  in  that 
his  were  all  masterpieces.  Of  tone  color  in  its 
modern  sense,  however,  he  knew  very  little; 
the  time  was  not  ripe  and  he  did  not  have  to  ex- 
periment for  new  ways  of  musical  expression. 
Those  who  came  after  him  did,  among  the  first 
being  Franz  Liszt  and  his  contemporary  Hector 
Berlioz,  called  "the  father  of  the  modern  or- 
chestra". The  latter  was  not  a  great  composer 
but  he  devised  all  sorts  of  orchestral  combina- 
tions, producing  wonderful  new  effects  and  set- 
ting orchestration  on  a  new  level,  where,  in  the 
hands  of  the  modern  school,  it  is  becoming  the 
end  and  not  the  means  of  producing  music. 
Strauss,  Debussy  and  others  of  the  new  men, 
revel  in  exotic  combinations.  They  play  on  the 
orchestra  as  a  great  virtuoso  plays  on  his  special 
instrument,  and  they  produce  the  most  wonderful 
effects  in  tone  color. 

Up  to  Wagner's  time  writers  seldom  used 
violins  in  more  than  two  parts,  whereas  Wagner 
divides  them  into  as  many  as  fifteen.  Flutes, 
oboes  and  clarinets  were  used  in  pairs:  Strauss 
used  them  in  four  parts.  They  say  Strauss  re- 
quired every  man  in  an  orchestra  to  be  a  virtu- 
oso— he  makes  no  concessions  to  the  technical 
difficulty  of  the  instruments  or  performance; 
as  Wagner  made  no  concession  to  the  human 
voice,  treating  it  simply  as  a  means  of  expres- 
sion, so  Strauss  does  his  instruments.  Although 
Strauss  and   Debussy  create  astonishing  tonal 

32 


WHAT  MUSIC  MEANS 

effects  with  their  compositions  for  orchestra, 
these  are  so  much  the  result  of  tone  color  that 
when  these  compositions  are  reduced  to  a  piano 
arrangement,  they  have  a  tenuous,  almost  an 
empty  sound,  because  the  original  effect  is  in 
the  manner  of  presentation,  not  the  matter  pre- 
sented. This  over-elaboration  of  manner,  this 
super-accentuation  of  technique,  is  always  a  bad 
sign  in  art,  as  it  betrays  the  paucity  of  real  in- 
spiration. 

Of  course,  technique  there  must  be,  the  great- 
er the  better,  that  a  creator's  ideas  may  be  pre- 
sented in  the  best  possible  manner,  but  it  is  apt 
to,  indeed  already  largely  has,  become  the  end 
and  not  the  means.  In  this  respect  music  seems 
to  be  declining  as  an  art.  It  is  the  history  of  all 
art  that  it  has  its  rise,  growth  and  decline.  As 
mentioned  in  a  former  paper,  each  nation  has 
had  its  great  national  and  racial  art  expression. 
Can  we  think  of  a  contemporaneous  sculptor  to 
compare  to  Phidias,  a  painter  to  compare  to 
Raphael,  a  poet  to  compare  to  Shakespeare,  a 
musician  to  compare  to  Beethoven  ?  Music,  the 
oldest  of  the  arts,  was  the  youngest  to  mature. 
She  has  passed  her  apogee,  and  judging  by  her 
achievements,  so  wonderful  in  the  short  period 
of  their  occurrence,  it  hardly  can  be  hoped  that 
she  can  duplicate  them  indefinitely.  But  if  art  in 
all  its  forms  be  in  its  decadence,  there  is  hope 
in  the  knowledge  that  the  artistic  impulse  never 
dies;  it  is  coincident  with  human  progress. 

But  to  return  to  musical  suggestion.  Wagner 
war  the  first  composer  to  use  a  definite  form  of 
suggestion  by  musical  characterization.  He  called 
it  the  Leitmotiv,  or  leading  motive.  Every  char- 
acter in  his  music  drama  was  designated  by  a 

33 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

musical  phrase  (I  am  using  the  term  in  its  music- 
al, not  its  metrical  sense);  this  was  its  leading 
motive  and  every  time  that  character  appears, 
is  heard  or  alluded  to,  his  leading  motive  is  an- 
nounced by  the  orchestra.  He  went  much  fur- 
ther with  this  idea  and  attached  Leitmotiven  to 
objects  and  concepts,  as  well  as  persons,  as  the 
*'Rheingold"  motive,  and  the  * 'Power  of  Expi- 
ation" motive  in  the  "Nibelumgen  Ring",  the 
* 'Eucharist"  and  "Faith"  motives  and  the 
"Good  Friday  Spell"  in  "Parsifal".  It  is  a  mar- 
velous system  that  he  invented,  but  so  elaborate 
that  it  requires  not  only  great  mental  effort  to 
recognize  the  leading  motives  when  they  are 
heard,  but  also  prolonged  study  to  learn  to  rec- 
ognize them.  To  do  this  is  one  way  to  learn  to 
understand  music. 

Music  was  a  quality,  by  the  way,  which  was 
denied  to  Wagner's  great  music  dramas  when 
they  were  first  produced.  Naturally  his  system 
did  away  with  much  of  the  old  architecture  of 
music,  strict  metrical  form,  but  his  genius  was 
such  a  vital  one  that  it  substituted  matter  for 
formal  manner,  and  some  of  the  most  wonder- 
ful music  ever  written  was  composed  by  Wagner. 
But  his  neglect  of  form  was  such  a  reproach  to 
him  by  his  contemporaries  and  was  really  so 
largely  a  matter  of  ignorance  of  counterpoint, 
that  he  seriously  took  up  its  study  rather  late  in 
life  and  afterwards  wrote  the  "Mastersingers  of 
Nuremberg",  which  is  considered  by  many  to 
be  his  greatest  opera,  and  in  which  he  displays 
an  exhaustive  knowledge  of  strict  counterpoint. 
The  overture  to  this  opera  is  a  wonderfully  fine 
example  of  counterpoint  and  is  a  masterpiece  of 
melodic  and  harmonic  beauty  as  well. 

34 


WHAT  MUSIC  MEANS 

In  spite  of  his  contempt  for  "tunes",  Wagner 
occasionally  lapsed  into  them.  There  are  several 
in  his  earliest  operas,  "Die  Feen"  and  "Rienzi". 
We  are  all  familiar  with  one  in  "Lohengrin", 
the  Wedding  March;  this  is  in  regular  eight- 
measure  periods  and  conforms  to  every  requis- 
ite of  a  popular  tune,  and  it  is  meant  to  be  one, 
being  a  striking  expression  of  Wagner's  fine 
sense  of  the  fitness  of  things  musical.  This  caus- 
ed him  to  make  the  bridal  chorus  express 
itself  in  its  own  idiom,  folksong;  and  he  wrote 
for  it  a  march  which  might  well  be  a  real  folk- 
song, and  of  such  melodic  appeal  that  it  has  been 
adopted  as  the  regulation  recessional  in  all  wed- 
ding ceremonies,  as  the  Wedding  March  from 
Mendelssohn's  music  to  the  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream  has  been  adopted  as  the  processional. 

Wagner's  Leitmotiv  has  become  a  generally 
used  musical  device  and  is  a  powerful  ally  for 
suggeston,  as  it  gives  the  opportunity  to  relate  a 
musical  phrase  to  a  definite  object;  it  cannot 
mean  that  object,  but  by  association  therewith 
it  suggests  it,  but  only  that  particular  object  and 
not  the  class.  Wagner  uses  a  number  of  love 
motives  in  his  music  dramas,  but  the  love  mo- 
tives in  the  "Nibelungen  Ring"  bear  no  musical 
relation  to  those  in  "Tristan  and  Isolde",  prov- 
ing that  the  motive  cannot  be  derived  from  and 
has  no  relationship  to  the  thing  itself. 

Schopenhauer  says  in  his  "Opus  Magnum", 
"The  World  as  Will  and  Idea",  that  music  alone 
is  the  sole  presentative  art,  like  life  itself  a  direct 
expression  of  the  will.  All  other  arts  are  r^-pre- 
sentative,  re-presenting  something  the  human 
experience  knows,  in  other  words  they  are  imi- 
tative.   No  painter,  no  sculptor,  no  writer,  can 

35 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

possibly  present  anything  on  canvas,  in  clay  or 
in  words,  which  has  not  been  seen,  or  imagined, 
or  experienced — if  not  in  his  own,  at  least  in 
human  experience;  the  painter  or  sculptor  can 
visualize  beauty  more  perfect  than  we  perhaps 
have  ever  seen;  the  poet  can  describe  emotions 
more  exquisite  than  we  have  ever  experienced, 
or  horrors  more  monstrous  than  our  imagina- 
tions have  perhaps  ever  conjured,  but  their  com- 
ponent parts  we  all  know  and  recognize.  So 
though  they  idealize  or  magnify,  what  they  pro- 
duce must  be  within  the  ken  of  human  knowl- 
edge, and  the  symbols  must  be  comprehended 
to  make  any  appeal. 

It  is  not  so  with  music.  It  speaks  to  us  direct- 
ly, and  is  not  limited  by  human  experience,  for 
it  has  nothing  to  do  with  it  on  its  objective  side. 
Music  cannot  be  made  to  mean  anything  but 
music,  and  when  it  has  to  be  served  with  a  glos- 
sary, in  the  manner  of  the  modern  composer,  it 
is  quite  outside  its  function.  You  cannot  de- 
scribe anything  with  music,  or  inspire  it  with 
any  meaning  but  its  own.  As  some  one  has  truly 
said,  "its  center  of  gravity  must  lie  within  itself." 

Schumann  says  "where  a  youth  of  eighteen 
hears  a  world  famous  occurrence  in  a  musical 
work,  a  man  only  perceives  some  rustic  event, 
while  the  musician  probably  never  thought  of 
either,  but  simply  gave  the  best  music  that  he 
happened  to  feel  within  himself  just  then." 

Music  is  first  of  all  an  art  of  expression,  the 
noblest  given  to  man,  but  it  expresses  charac- 
teristics, qualities,  emotions,  moods,  not  tangi- 
ble things.  It  can  express  grandeur,  nobility, 
charm,  tenderness,  gayety,  humor,  sadness. 
Happy  is  the  composer,  like  our  own  MacDow- 

36 


WHAT  MUSIC  MEANS 

ell,  whose  imagination  enables  him  to  affix  a 
title  which  will  carry  with  it  the  suggestion  of 
mood  desired  for  its  hearing.  This  awakens  ex- 
pectation and  stimulates  the  imagination — the 
listener  puts  himself  in  the  attitude  of  receiving 
the  mood  suggestion  called  forth  by  the  compo- 
sition, but  his  mind  may  call  up  pictures,  associ- 
ations, emotions,  never  dreamed  of  by  the  com- 
poser in  relation  to  his  piece;  and  this  after  all 
is  the  true  message  and  meaning  of  music — it  is 
composed  in  unconscious  sympathy  with  uni- 
versal feeling  and  emotion,  and  for  this  reason 
is  enabled  to  speak  to  each  one  of  us  after  our 
own  heart  and  bring  us  the  message  we  desire. 


Musical  illustrations: 

Pan's  Flute        ....  Godard 

To  a  Wild  Rose  -  -  -  MacDowell 
To  a  Water  Lily  -  -  -  MacDowell 
Scotch  Poem  -  -  -  MacDowell 
Hexentanz  ....  MacDowell 
To  a  Vanishing  Race     -        -  Cadman 

Warum Schumann 

Barcarolle Whitney 

Spinnerlied       •       •       -         Mendelssohn 

Stimmung SjcEgren 

Morgenwandrung         -       -       -      Sjoegren 

Lotus  Land Scott 

Feuerzauber         -       -         Wagper-Brassin 


37 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

V 

INTERPRETATION 

USIC  is  unique  as  an  art;  existing 
as  it  does  in  time  and  not  in  space, 
it  has  to  be  evolved  from  time  and 
silence  with  each  performance,  at 
the  end  of  which  it  dies.  Thus  eve- 
ry musical  composition  must  be  reborn,  before 
it  can  live,  except  on  the  printed  page,  where 
unperformed  it  is  a  dead  thing. 

The  symbols  standing  for  it,  the  notes,  imply 
movement,  but  they  do  not  move  and  they  can- 
not be  translated  into  or  by  any  other  medium. 
No  matter  how  great  our  powers  of  description 
we  can  give  no  idea  of  the  effect  of  music;  it  has 
to  be  performed  and  heard  before  the  music 
lover  can  respond  to  it. 

Think  then  how  dependent  it  is  upon  a  medi- 
ator; no  other  art,  not  even  the  drama,  is  so  at 
the  mercy  of  those  who  interpret  it.  Drama  can 
be  read  and  its  power  and  effect  realized  in  great 
degree  by  the  reader,  but  only  the  specially  ed- 
ucated can  even  approximate  such  results  by  the 
study  of  the  printed  page  in  music,  and  then  it 
is  a  very  barren  pleasure. 

As  music  lives  in  reproduction  and  enters  ful- 
ness of  life  each  time  only  through  its  rebirth, 
it  is  entirely  the  creature  of  its  mediator.  This 
should  put  a  heavy  responsibility  on  its  inter- 
38 


INTERPRETATION 

prefers,  who  should  serve  music  as  a  goddess, 
with  the  best  there  is  in  them,  for  she  is  an  art 
to  uplift  man,  to  enrich  his  life,  and  expand  his 
soul. 

Musical  interpretation  is  more  than  a  repro- 
ductive art,  it  is  almost  creative,  and  for  two 
reasons:  first,  in  that  it  brings  the  composition 
to  life  again,  and,  second,  in  that  the  performer 
is  not  alone  concerned  with  transmitting  the  in- 
tention of  the  composer,  he  adds  to  it  a  message 
of  his  own — for  music  above  all  others  is  an  art 
of  self-expression. 

In  every  human  being  self-expression  is  a  ne- 
cessity, so  we  always  get  a  musical  composition 
colored  by  the  performer:  a  real  case  of  "a  bit 
of  nature  (human  nature!)  seen  through  a  tem- 
perament", but  not  always  **a  work  of  art", 
very  often  not!  This  is  a  slight  alteration  of 
Zola's  celebrated  dictum  that  "a  work  of  art  is 
a  bit  of  nature  seen  through  a  temperament". 

Music,  of  all  the  arts,  most  exposes  what  is  or 
is  not  in  its  interpreter;  as  it  is  the  most  intimate 
form  of  self-expression,  its  truth  or  falsity  is  felt 
at  once. 

Emotion  is  the  one  moving  thing  in  human 
intercourse.  It  is  the  quality  felt  in  all  great  na- 
tures, and  when  possessed  by  the  musical  artist 
is  fortune's  richest  gift.  With  emotion  and  in- 
telligence the  artist  can  travel  far;  where  these 
are  allied  to  talent  and  perseverence,  the  result 
is  almost  genius.  It  would  be  very  difficult  to 
determine  which  of  these  qualities  is  most  nec- 
essary to  the  artist,  but  surely  emotion  is  the 
sine  qua  non. 

If  interpretation  be  a  form  of  self-expression, 
it  must  be  properly  restrained  and  directed  or  it 

39 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

may  easily  become  license;  the  rules  governing 
musical  interpretation  are  as  strict  as  those  gov- 
erning composition,  and,  if  not  observed,  the  re- 
sult will  be  caricature.  Judging  by  results,  they 
seem  to  be  little  understood  and  still  less  observ- 
ed by  many  performers;  but  they  are  so  simple 
of  comprehension  that  even  a  child  can  appre- 
hend them  and  they  should  be  thoroughly  taught 
with  the  other  rudiments  of  music. 

They  embrace  three  cardinal  principles,  each 
of  them  having  innumerable  applications.  First, 
in  importance,  as  before  stated  in  the  paper  on 
rhythm,  is  the  correct  observance  of  accents; 
second,  the  proper  modification  of  the  tempo; 
and  third,  a  complete  dynamic  control.  These 
are  the  mechanical  means  of  musical  expression 
and  will  cover  every  example.  A  whole  volume 
might  be  written  on  each  of  these  subjects,  but 
we  will  consider  only  the  chief  aspects,  begin- 
ning with  the  most  important,  that  of  accents. 

As  before  said,  accents  are  of  two  kinds, 
grammatical  and  musical.  Grammatical  are 
rhythmical  and  metrical.  Rhythm  must  be  so 
marked  that  the  listener  always  can  find  himself 
in  the  measure;  if  he  wishes  he  must  be  able  to 
say  **what  I  hear  is  in  double  or  triple  time  and 
here  is  the  second  or  third  beat".  He  should  be 
able  to  do  this,  because  the  performer  marks  the 
rhythm  for  him  by  accenting  the  first  beat  al- 
ways, not  dominatingly  but  insistently.  The  first 
requisite  of  good  musical  performance  is  correct 
rhythm. 

The  next  class  of  grammatical  accents  is  metri- 
cal. The  musical  divisions  must  be  marked,  the 
sections,  phrases  and  periods  separated  and  in- 
dicated, so  that  there  is  a  metrical  contour  em- 

40 


INTERPRETATION 

bracing  the  rhythmical  contour.  In  this  way  we 
get  long  flowing  lines,  or  short  broken  ones,  as 
the  metrical  content  demands. 

The  second  class  of  accents,  the  musical,  is 
much  more  complex  and  embraces  a  very  wide 
range.  First  of  musical  accents  are  those  of  the 
phrase.  The  phrase  in  music  corresponds  to  the 
sentence  in  language;  it  is  a  musical  sentence 
and  music  is  made  of  phrases;  these  have  to  be 
delivered  intelligently  and  the  only  way  of  doing 
so  is  by  accents. 

Phrasing  is  evolved  from  song,  which  in  turn 
is  evolved  from  speech;  so  a  phrase  should  not 
be  longer  than  a  sentence  which  can  be  repeated 
in  a  breath.  The  first  note  of  a  phrase  should 
be  marked  by  an  accent  and  the  last  one  unac- 
cented. This  is  a  general  rule,  subject  to  excep- 
tions, of  course.  All  the  notes  contained  in  the 
phrase  should  be  delivered  smoothly  and  con- 
nectedly unless  otherwise  indicated;  if  the  phrase 
is  a  long  one,  it  should  have  dynamic  variety. 
The  repetition  of  a  phrase  should  always  be  va- 
ried, either  louder  or  softer,  never  the  same. 
But,  no  matter  what  the  length  of  the  phrase, 
even  if  only  two  notes,  the  first  must  be  accented, 
the  last  unaccented. 

The  singer  phrases  with  his  breath,  the  violin- 
ist (or  other  player  of  a  stringed  instrument) 
with  his  bow,  and  the  pianist  with  his  touch. 

Phrasing  is  the  very  essence  of  artistic  musi- 
cal performance  and  renders  the  musical  ideas 
intelligible,  as  punctuation  makes  clear  a  literary 
work.  While  the  language  of  music  is  not  defi- 
nite in  literary  meaning,  it  is  in  musical  meaning 
and  it  must  be  studied  by  the  interpreting  artist, 
until  he  can  express  its  inmost  sentiment  and 

41 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

convey  it  to  his  auditors.  When  he  can  do  this, 
then  and  then  only  is  he  a  real  interpreter,  one 
in  whose  hands  a  musical  composition  is  safe, 

Liszt  writes  bitterly  in  one  of  his  letters  as  fol- 
lows, and  he  expresses  the  feelings  of  all  com- 
posers who  have  the  fate  of  their  musical  chil- 
dren, their  compositions,  at  heart:  "The  poet, 
the  painter  or  the  sculptor  brings  his  work  to 
completion  in  the  quiet  of  his  atelier,  and  when 
it  is  completed  there  are  publishers  to  circulate 
it,  or  museums  in  which  it  may  be  exhibited; 
no  mediation  is  necessary  between  the  art  work 
and  its  judges.  The  composer,  on  the  other 
hand,  must  have  recourse  to  interpreters  who 
are  often  incompetent  and  indifferent,  and  make 
him  suffer  by  reason  of  a  rendering  that  is  per- 
haps true  to  the  letter,  but  utterly  fails  to  reveal 
the  thought  of  the  work  and  the  genius  of  the 
author." 

He  speaks  of  a  rendering  perhaps  true  to  the 
letter,  but  failing  to  reveal  the  thought  of  the 
work  and  the  genius  of  the  author,  and  this  is 
unfortunately  true  in  many  cases.  Many  musical 
performers  are  concerned  solely  with  the  notes; 
if  they  can  be  correctly  delivered  at  approxi- 
mately the  right  speed,  the  responsibility  of  such 
performers  is  discharged.  This  reminds  me  of  a 
little  verse — 

With  patience  and  practice 

Little  Alice  at  last, 
Has  learned  to  play 
Both  correctly  and  fast. 
This  would  seem  to  have  been  the  motto  of  a 
pianist  who  ranks  high  in  the  world  as  a  techni- 
cal player,  yet  who  very  often  fails  to  reveal  the 
thought  of  the  work  or  the  genius  of  the  author, 
Moriz  Rosenthal,  one  of  the  greatest  technicians 
42 


INTERPRETATION 

the  piano  has  ever  had;  he  is  such  a  wonderful 
performer  that  he  actually  cfeforms  musical 
works.  They  are  not  difficult  enough  properly 
to  demonstrate  his  technical  resources,  so  he 
enhances  their  difficulties  a  thousand  fold;  like 
Leopold  Godowski,  who  plays  two  Chopin 
etudes  at  once,  one  with  each  hand,  to  show 
what  mere  trifles  they  are!  I  heard  Rosenthal, 
however,  give  the  most  ravishing  performance 
of  Chopin's  '^Berceuse",  the  lovely  figuration 
of  which,  so  difficult  for  most  pianists,  was  for 
him  mere  child's  play,  and  as  it  requires  no 
deep  amount  of  sentiment  but  a  vast  amount  of 
technical  finish,  he  plays  it  perfectly. 

It  is  not  the  artist  who  talks  with  his  fingers, 
however,  that  the  public  takes  to  its  heart,  but 
the  artist  who  speaks  with  emotion;  who  tells 
you  of  what  he  has  in  his  own  heart.  Emotion 
controlled  by  intelligence,  so  the  performance 
strikes  the  happy  medium  between  objective  and 
subjective;  around  which  dissimilar  styles  criti- 
cism has  always  raged. 

Must  the  composition  or  the  performer  be  the 
dominating  element  ?  I  lean  to  the  subjective 
side,  feeling  that  the  personality  of  the  repro- 
ductive artist  must  influence  the  composition;  he 
should  pour  his  new  wine  into  the  old  bottles  to 
make  them  fresh  and  sparkling  again. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  hear  the  greatest 
representatives  of  these  two  opposed  schools  of 
piano  playing,  Rubenstein  and  von  Buelow,  in 
the  same  season,  and  never  shall  I  forget  the 
impressions  they  produced  in  me.  Rubenstein 
was  so  temperamental,  so  virile,  so  magnetic, 
that  he  made  everything  which  he  played  fairly 
glow;  it  was  as  though  the  composition  were 

4a 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

created  warm  and  palpitating  before  your  gaze, 
or  rather  in  your  hearing.  He  swept  one  along, 
so  that  there  was  no  disposition  to  criticism,  al- 
though he  offered  many  techical  opportunities 
for  it 

Von  Buelow,  on  the  other  hand,  had  every 
effect  planned  and  nothing  was  left  to  inspira- 
tion; all  was  studied  and  finished,  but  cold — 
there  was  little  room  for  criticism;  the  pleasure 
was  intellectual,  in  a  thing  almost  perfectly  done 
from  the  artistic  standpoint;  but  with  Ruben- 
stein  the  pleasure  was  emotional  and  elemental, 
to  me  far  the  greater.  Of  course,  a  perfect  bal- 
ance between  the  two  is  the  neplus  ultra,  but  it 
is  almost  an  impossibility.  In  my  judgment 
Josef  Hofmann  and  Fritz  Kreisler  come  nearest 
this  perfect  balance  in  their  playing. 

I  believe  the  majority  of  art  and  music  lovers 
prefer  the  subjective  style  of  performance,  and 
that  is  the  reason  the  world  remains  so  conserv- 
ative in  its  art  tastes.  Its  education  has  been  slow; 
it  grows  to  love  the  things  it  knows;  and  in  mus- 
ic, certainly,  it  is  content  to  listen  to  practically 
the  same  compositions,  season  after  season, 
with  a  change  of  artist.  It  is  again  like  the  drama: 
the  lover  of  Shakespeare  knows  every  word  of 
his  **Hamlet'*,  but  he  wants  to  hear  it  again  and 
again  for  the  new  interpretation  given  it  by  the 
actor.  So  with  music,  it  is  what  the  interpreter 
can  put  in  the  old  compositionsthat  themusiclover 
wants  to  hear,  what  new  accents  he  has  to  offer, 
to  revert  suddenly  to  our  almost  forgotten  topic. 

We  were  dealing  with  the  accent  on  the  first 
note  of  the  phrase.  It  is  an  artistic  touch  to  ac- 
cent and  slightly  retard  on  the  highest  note 
or  climax  of  the  phrase;  this  is  a  much  abused 

44 


INTERPRETATION 

trick  in  singing.  Then  we  always  accent  a  disso- 
nance; the  stronger  the  dissonance,  the  stronger 
the  accent,  as  though  to  prove  it  true  despite  the 
way  it  sounds.  Ultra  modern  music,  so  largely 
composed  of  dissonances,  is  liable  to  reverse 
this  rule,  and  make  it  necessary,  in  order  to 
avoid  a  most  explosive  style  of  performance,  to 
accent  the  infrequent  consonances! 

Aesthetic  and  characteristic  accents  are  almost 
impossible  to  tabulate;  they  are  directed  by  taste 
and  judgment  and  can  only  be  taught  as  they 
arise  in  the  course  of  study. 

The  subject  of  characteristic  accents  embraces 
such  a  wide  range  that  it  cannot  be  fully  treated 
here.  Characteristic  accents  are  national  and  in- 
dividual. Almost  every  civilized  country  has  its 
national  melodies  in  the  form  of  songs  and 
dances.  While  most  of  these  melodies  have  re- 
mained local,  many  of  them,  particularly  the 
dances,  have  been  appropriated  by  the  great 
composers  and  introduced  into  general  musical 
literature.  The  notable  traits  of  these  melodies 
are  their  rhythms  and  certain  distinguishing  ac- 
cents which  make  them  nationally  characteristic. 
We  cannot  call  this  characteristic  element  for- 
eign, because  music  is  cosmopolitan,  yet  it  is  so 
distinctly  racial  that  one  familiar  with  the  char- 
acteristics of  such  melodies  readily  recognizes  to 
what  nationality  they  belong.  For  example,  most 
of  us  can  recognize  Scotch,  Hungarian  or  Span- 
ish rhythms. 

The  waltz,  for  instance,  is  thoroughly  Ger- 
man, the  mazurka  essentially  Polish;  both  are 
written  in  triple  rhythm,  but  how  different  the 
effect,  owing  to  their  characteristic  accents.  We 
have  the  rhythmical  accent  in  both  on  the  first 

45 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

beat,  but  in  the  mazurka  we  have  also  a  strong 
accent  on  the  third  beat,  alternating  with  one  on 
the  second  at  the  end  of  a  period;  this  gives  it  a 
very  different  character  and  removes  the  lan- 
guorous undulating  effect  which  waltz  rhythm 
produces. 

The  rhythm  of  a  barcarolle  is  invariably  in  }• 
measure,  but  Tchaikowski  has  written  a  beau- 
tiful barcarolle  in  7  measure.  Such  a  change  of 
rhythm  would  be  impossible  in  dance  forms,  for 
the  rhythm  in  these  must  accompany  and  be  the 
measure  of  the  rhythmical  movements  of  the 
body,  from  which  it  springs. 

The  great  composers  who  have  employed 
dance  forms  have  treated  them  so  freely  that 
they  have  become  artistic  dance  forms,  ceasing 
to  be  dances  in  the  popular  sense.  Such  are  the 
dances  of  Bach,  the  minuets  of  Mozart  and 
Beethoven,  the  waltzes  of  Schubert,  the  mazur- 
kas and  polonaises  of  Chopin;  these  are  ideal- 
ized dances  for  the  artistic  taste,  very  different 
from  the  dances  of  Strauss  and  Lanner  and 
Waldteufel,  which  are  for  the  masses.  But  who 
shall  say  the  **Beautiful  Blue  Danube"  of  Strauss 
is  not  beautiful  music,  one  of  the  loveliest 
waltzes  ever  written  ? 

Now  a  few  words  regarding  individual  accents. 
Music  as  an  art  recognizes  two  kinds  of  music, 
artistic  music,  the  production  of  the  artist,  and 
national  music,  the  production  of  the  people. 
Artistic  music  appropriates  and  amalgamates  in 
itself  the  productions  of  every  country,  and 
therefore  having  no  geographical  boundaries  is 
universal. 

The  greatest  composers  rise  above  their  na- 
tionalities and  belong  to  a  universal  brotherhood, 

46 


INTERPRETATION 

but  they  always  retain  individual  characteristics, 
so  that  their  compositions  are  stamped  with  their 
style,  but  not  their  nationality.  Only  one  com- 
poser of  the  first  rank  has  retained  his  nationali- 
ty in  his  musical  speech,  Chopin,  and  it  is  this 
very  characteristic  which  constitutes  his  greatest 
charm;  his  characteristic  accents  spring  from  his 
nationality. 

Schumann's  accents,  on  the  other  hand,  arc 
individual;  he  employed  syncopation  and  synco- 
pated rhythms  more  freely  than  any  other  great 
composer.  This  makes  certain  of  his  composi- 
tions unnecessarily  difficult;  for  if  a  syncopated 
rhythm  be  persisted  in  regularly  and  long 
enough,  it  loses  its  effect  and  falls  on  the  ear  as 
a  regular  rhythm.  This  is  the  case  with  many  of 
Schumann's  syncopated  passages;  they  are 
written  against  the  designated  rhythm,  but  have 
no  syncopated  effect  except  for  the  poor  per- 
former, who  must  count  one  rhythm  while  play- 
ing another. 

Tchaikowski  has  taken  a  fling  at  this  idiosyn- 
crasy of  Schumann  in  his  * 'Original  Theme  and 
Variations",  Op.  19.  He  has  marked  one  varia- 
tion *'Alla  Schumann"  and  has  given  it  the  time 
signature  f-  when  the  content  of  each  measure 
throughout  is  two  quarter  notes.  This  little  sar- 
casm is  much  appreciated  by  the  many  pianists 
who  have  struggled  with  Schumann's  obscure 
rhythms.  Some  of  Tchaikowski 's  later  editors 
have  substituted  the  7  signature  in  this  variation, 
perhaps  feeling  he  or  they  might  be  accused  of 
a  serious  error;  thus  Tchaikowski's  witticism  is 
lost  and  "Alia  Schumann"  is  robbed  of  its  sting. 

In  turning  from  the  subject  of  accents  to  the 
two  other  principles  of  interpretation,  the  modi- 

47 


FAMIUAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

fication  of  the  tempo  and  dynamic  control, 
there  is  much  less  to  be  said;  not  that  their  ap- 
plications are  less  general,  but  because  they  are 
more  variable,  and  therefore  less  subject  to  rule. 
They  can  be  much  better  illustrated  by  example 
than  by  precept. 

Regarding  the  accelerando  and  retardando  it  is 
diffiult  to  give  many  definite  rules.  One  is,  how- 
ever, always  to  retard  in  approaching  an  initial 
phrase  of  a  subject  or  melody;  another,  always 
to  retard  in  approaching  a  fermate  ^  (pause)  that 
the  cessation  of  movement  be  not  too  abrupt.  A 
retard  during  a  modulation  before  a  change  of 
key  in  a  piece,  is  usually  a  good  musical  effect; 
to  retard  the  climax  of  a  melody  is  another.  In 
works  of  the  earlier  schools,  including  those  of 
Bach,  Handel  and  their  contemporaries,  a  re- 
tard, a  general  broadening  toward  their  close,  is 
necessary  to  their  style.  The  musical  ear  seems 
to  require  a  slight  retard  on  a  complete  cadence, 
with  which  most  compositions  of  these  schools 
conclude.  Leschetizky  had  a  wonderful  maxim 
in  his  teaching  of  rhythm,  which  alone  would 
stamp  him  a  master  of  style.  It  was  the  finest 
principle  I  learned  from  his  inspiring  instruc- 
tion. He  would  say  again  and  again  to  his  pupils: 
**You  can  never  come  in  too  late  on  the  first  beat 
of  a  measure,  but  you  can  almost  always  come 
in  too  early."  He  meant,  in  other  words,  that  a 
slight  retard  at  the  end  of  every  measure  pro- 
duces the  effect  of  perfect  rhythm;  just  as  the 
slight  curves  in  the  seemingly  straight  lines  of 
classic  architecture  produce  the  impression  of 
perfect  straightness.  Retarding,  with  its  impres- 
sion of  poise  and  repose,  would  seem,  from  the 
number  of  examples  of  its  use  that  I  have  ad- 

48 


INTERPRETATION 

duced,  to  be  more  essential  to  interpretation 
than  accelerating.  The  latter  produces  the  im- 
pression of  stress  and  excitement  and  is  very 
frequently  a  necessary  and  brilliant  effect,  but 
from  its  very  nature  it  is  often  a  matter  of  im- 
pulse and  caprice  arising  during  performance, 
and  therefore  cannot  be  so  well  tabulated. 

Schumann  has  marked  the  first  movement  of 
his  beautiful  Sonata  in  G  minor  to  be  played  "as 
fast  as  possible",  yet  throughout  the  movement 
occur  the  directions,  "faster" — "still  faster"! 
A  study  of  this  sonata  movement  should  furnish 
a  good  example  of  the  usage  of  the  accelerando. 

Tempo  rubato  (robbed  time)  embraces  both  the 
retardando  and  accelerando  and  should,  when 
rightly  employed,  produce  balanced  rhythm.  It 
was  introduced  by  Chopin  in  his  piano  playing, 
and  is  a  necessary  factor  in  the  proper  interpre- 
tation of  his  compositions.  It  means  the  robbing 
of  time  from  one  part  of  a  measure,  section, 
phrase  or  period,  to  give  it  to  another.  Tempo 
rubato  is  the  prerogative  of  the  artist  alone;  its 
abuse  is  the  distortion  of  rhythm,  but  its  legiti- 
mate and  discreet  use  is  one  of  the  finest  aids  to 
musical  interpretation. 

Retarding  is  always  used  to  express  a  calming 
down,  just  as  accelerating  denotes  agitation. 
When  we  wish  to  play  very  softly  we  involun- 
tarily retard,  the  slowness  adding  to  the  effect; 
and  the  converse  also  is  true,  as,  when  we  wish 
to  play  very  loudly  we  play  more  slowly,  there- 
by increasing  the  impression  of  force. 

Here  we  have  the  union  of  our  second  and 
third  principles,  tempo  modification  with  dynam- 
ic control;  but  the  union  of  all  three  principles  is 
so  inextricably  fused  that  it  is  a  most  difficult 

49 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

matter  to  dissociate  them  and  enlarge  upon  them 
singly. 

Dynamic  control  is  one  of  the  chief  elements 
of  technique,  and  therefore  of  mechanical  ex- 
pression, and  it  is  the  regulator  of  all  accents 
and  degrees  of  force  in  performance.  The  rules 
regulating  the  crescendo  and  diminuendo  are  gov- 
erned by  the  context,  but  a  general  rule  is  to 
increase  in  volume  in  an  ascending  passage  and 
to  decrease  in  a  descending  one.  Leschetizky  was 
very  strict  about  this  in  all  studies,  and  it  gave 
the  Czemy  etudes  (Leschetizky  was  a  pupil  of 
Czemy  and  taught  his  etudes  unceasingly)  the 
most  lovely  and  undulating  outlines;  they  sound- 
ed like  beautiful  pieces  instead  of  the  dry  studies 
most  pupils  resolve  them  into.  Of  course,  very 
often  the  reverse  is  a  beautiful  musical  effect,  to 
increase  in  volume  with  a  descending  passage. 
Color  is  lent  to  musical  performance  by  variation 
in  dynamic  force,  and  this  is  the  most  grateful 
means  of  giving  variety  to  an  interpretation. 

But  as  I  have  said  before,  all  this  can  be  illus- 
trated much  better  by  example  than  by  precept. 
In  fact  it  is  very  difficult  to  talk  about  it  thus. 
In  teaching,  however,  it  is  the  easiest  thing  in 
the  world;  every  phrase,  almost  every  note, 
furnishes  an  example  and  can  be  made  expres- 
sive by  the  rules  of  interpretation,  which  I  have 
reduced  to  three  general  ones,  more  or  less 
elucidated. 

For  an  art  which  is  so  elusive  (intangible  per- 
haps is  better),  1  have  had  a  great  deal  to  say, 
and  1  can  only  hope,  in  saying  it,  that  I  have 
helped  to  make  a  few  things  clearer  and  perhaps 
to  enlarge  your  vision  along  the  most  beautiful 

50 


INTERPRETATION 

and  soul-satisfying  lines  given  us  by  either  art 
or  nature. 


Musical  Illustrations: 

Long  flowing  metrical  lines, 

Melodic         -        -        -  Gluck-Sgambati 

Short  broken  metrical  lines, 

Loure Bach-Heinze 

Accents  against  the  rhythm:    the  syncopated   episode 

from  the  last  movement  of  the  Schumann  Concerto, 

in  which  the  accents  and  therefore  the  effect  are  in 

double  time,  while  the  rhythm  is  written  in  triple  time 

Improvisation        -        -    Edward  MacDowell 

Lento Cyril  Scott 

Valse-Caprice      -        -        -  Cyril  Scott 

Reverie    -        -        -  Richard  Strauss 

Intermezzo    -        -        -  Richard  Strauss 

Poeme      .        .        .        .        Zdenko  Fibich 
Reverie  Margaret  Ruthven  Lang 

Prince  Charming  Mrs.  H.  H.  A.  Beach 

Fireflies  -  Mrs.  H.  H.  A.  Beach 


51 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

TWO  SYMPHONIES 

AD  Mr.  Damrosch  searched  through 
the  entire  literature  of  the  Sympho- 
ny he  could  not  have  found  a  more 
striking  contrast  than  in  the  two 
works  he  has  chosen  for  his  con- 
certs at  our  Exposition  next  Saturday  and  Sun- 
day. This  contrast  is  all  the  more  remarkable 
in  view  of  the  fact  that  both  composers  are  of 
the  same  race,  (the  Slav,)  both  have  drawn  their 
thematic  material  from  folk  music,  both  have 
chosen  the  same  key,  E  minor,  and  there  are 
marked  similarities  of  construction. 

Each  of  the  symphonies  comprises  four  move- 
ments, instead  of  the  customary  three,  and  the 
first  movement  of  each  is  preceded  by  a  slow 
introduction.  Instead  of  the  usual  two  subjects 
in  a  movement,  each  of  these  has  three  princi- 
pal themes.  And  both  symphonies  are  dominat- 
ed, perhaps  haunted  is  a  better  word,  by  the 
chief  theme  of  the  first  movement.  These  are 
mere  accidental  coincidences,  however,  and  serve 
even  better  to  exemplify  the  great  musical  and 
emotional  contrast  of  the  two  works.  This  wide 
divergence  in  the  treatment  is  due  to  the  indi- 
vidual temperaments  of  the  composers,  which 
are  strongly  reflected  in  their  works. 

As  music  is  the  most  intimate  and  revealing 
form  of  self-expression,  a  musical  composition 
if  it  be  true,  sincere,  (and  good  music  is  always 
52 


TWO  SYMPHONIES 

true — that  is  the  measure  of  its  worth)  if  it  be 
true,  it  must  be  the  reflex  of  the  composer. 

Tchaikowski  and  Dvorak  were  contempora- 
ries, two  of  the  foremost  composers  of  our  time. 
Both  were  great  symphonic  writers,  with  a  mas- 
tery of  all  the  resources  of  orchestration,  of  tone 
color,  of  languishing  melody,  of  thematic  devel- 
opment, of  polyphonic  writing,  of  all  those  qual- 
ities so  necessary  to  great  symphonic  construc- 
tion ;  and  in  these  two  noble  works  they  achiev- 
ed masterpieces. 

Tchaikowski  has  taken  for  his  principal  theme 
a  Polish  folksong;  but  Dvorak  has  gone  far  afield 
and  adopted  our  native  American  music,  as  he 
calls  it,  our  plantation  melodies,  for  his  theme. 
Dvorak  spent  a  number  of  years  in  the  United 
States  as  Director  of  the  National  Conservatory 
of  Music  in  New  York  City,  and  during  his  res- 
idence in  this  country  he  made  a  deep  study  of 
these  plantation  songs,  declaring  that  they  were 
the  basis  of  our  real  folk  music,  if  we  developed 
any;  and  that  the  melodies  of  our  Indians  were 
not,  Charles  Cadman  and  others  to  the  contrary 
notwithstanding. 

Some  one  has  profoundly  observed  that  a  con- 
dition akin  to  bondage  is  necessary  to  produce 
folk  music.  Those  nations  in  which  the  lower 
classes  have  been  the  most  downtrodden,  like 
the  serfs  and  peasants  of  Europe,  have  produced 
the  most  beautiful  folk  music,  as  though  they 
had  found  solace  in  song  for  the  loss  of  freedom 
and  happiness.  This  is  true  of  the  negroes,  who 
are  essentially  a  musical  race,  one  which  might 
much  more  truly  produce  a  racial  music  than 
our  aboriginal  Indians,  who  are  not  musical. 

Tchaikowski,   who  is  typically  Russian,  was 

53 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

sensitive,  pessimistic,  even  morose  and  morbid, 
and  these  qualities  are  wonderfully  portrayed  in 
his  symphony;  while  Dvorak  was  a  true  Bohe- 
mian, a  native  of  a  small  village  near  Prag, 
temperamentally  light-hearted  and  sunny  tem- 
pered; so  while  his  compositions  may  be  some- 
times sad  and  plaintive,  they  are  never  tragic  or 
filled  with  unutterable  woe,  as  are  Tchaikowski's. 

Now  a  word  on  the  symphony  per  se.  It  is  art 
in  its  loftiest  expression,  like  the  tragedies  of 
iCschylus  or  the  architecture  of  the  ancient 
Greeks;  it  is  the  acme  of  musical  composition, 
and  is  built  on  architectural  lines  in  strict  form, 
and  like  every  manifestation  of  art  is  an  evolu- 
tion. It  was  brought  to  perfection  by  Beethoven 
in  its  classic  form,  but  all  composers,  great  and 
small,  have  been  tempted  by  its  possibilities  for 
musical  and  technical  expression.  Although  the 
modem  form  is  much  freer,  there  are  still  unal- 
terable rules  governing  its  composition,  which 
we  will  briefly  consider. 

A  symphony  is  a  sonata  written  for  the  orches- 
tra and  consists  of  at  least  three  movements,  or 
sections,  in  contrasted  keys  or  rhythms. 

The  first  movement  is  almost  always  a  fast 
one,  often  preceded  by  a  slow  introduction.  This 
movement  introduces  the  chief  themes  to  be 
worked  out  and  is  built  usually  on  two  principal 
themes.  In  the  classic  symphonies  these  themes 
are  called  the  subject  and  counter  subject,  but  now 
we  allude  to  them  as  the  first,  second,  and  third 
subjects  because  often  they  bear  little  relation  to 
each  other.  These  are  announced  early  and 
treated  in  various  ways,  until  the  movement 
reaches  the  exposition  or  development  stage, 
when  the  composer  brings  to  bear  all  his  techni- 

54 


TWO  SYMPHONIES 

cal  skill  in  presenting  the  themes  under  every 
possible  guise.  Often  this  working  out  section  is 
so  elaborate  and  intricate  that  the  average  listen- 
er entirely  loses  the  thread  of  the  movement  and 
is  hopelessly  at  sea,  until  its  close  brings  the  re- 
capitulation of  the  principal  subjects  in  the  key 
of  the  tonic.  The  exposition  of  the  first  move- 
ments of  both  symphonies  under  discussion  is 
unusually  long  and  elaborate,  that  of  Tchaikows- 
ki  in  particular  being  very  prolix  and  involved. 
This  also  is  the  case  with  his  last  movement. 

The  second  movement  of  a  symphony  is  a 
slow  one.  Its  themes  can  be  evolved  from  those 
of  the  first  movement,  or  they  can  be  of  entirely 
new  material;  but  in  the  working  out  section  it 
must  bear  a  relationship  to  the  whole,  as  must 
the  succeeding  movements. 

When  there  are  more  than  three,  the  third 
movement  is  often  a  dance  form,  a  minuet.  In 
the  Tchaikowski  it  is  a  waltz,  (the  only  one  I 
know  in  a  symphony)  a  form  in  which  he  is  es- 
pecially felicitous.  Or  it  may  be  a  musette,  with 
a  drone  bass  like  a  bagpipe;  or  a  scherzo,  a  piece 
of  musical  humor.  Dvorak  has  chosen  this  form. 
This  third  movement  is  developed  like  the  pre- 
ceding ones. 

These  middle  movements  may  be  in  sharply 
contrasting  keys  to  the  others,  but  the  last  move- 
ment, almost  invariably  a  quick  one,  must  be  in 
the  key  of  the  first.  In  this  way,  by  means  of  a 
key  or  scale,  we  establish  a  musical  home  whence 
we  start  out  on  our  adventures,  which  may  lead 
us  into  strange  and  remote  places;  but  at  last  we 
must  return  and  thus  round  out  our  musical 
composition  and  give  it  a  sense  of  homogeneity 

55 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

and  completeness,  for  a  work  of  art  must  be  one 
thing  and  not  a  collection  of  various  things. 

The  symphony  is  the  noblest  expression  of 
absolute  music,  as  distinguished  from  program 
music,  which  simply  means  descriptive  music. 
Absolute  music  is  becoming  almost  a  lost  art. 
Composers  are  leaning  more  and  more  on  litera- 
ry subjects  as  props  for  their  feeble  utterances, 
seeking  thus  to  give  a  meaning  which  music  can 
never  have.  So  we  have  symphonies  and  sym- 
phonic poems  written  on  every  conceivable  sub- 
ject, from  Shakespeare's  tragedies  to  "Thus 
spake  Zarathustra",  in  which  Richard  Strauss 
is  credited  with  expounding  the  entire  Nietsche- 
an  philosophy!  The  center  of  gravity  is  thus  re- 
moved from  the  musical  composition  where  it 
belongs  and  lodged  in  the  literary  subject  where 
it  has  no  place. 

Music  cannot  have  a  definite  meaning;  its  very 
nature  prohibits  such  a  possibility,  but  it  is  capa- 
ble of  infinite  suggestion,  which  can  often  be 
indicated  by  a  title  or  a  motto. 

Very  happily  these  two  symphonies  possess 
such  indications,  and  they  are  all  that  are  need- 
ed to  put  us  into  the  proper  receptive  mood  for 
their  message. 

It  is  known  that  Tchaikowski  wrote  his  later 
symphonies  with  a  program  in  mind,  but  a  sub- 
jective not  an  objective  program.  They  were  to 
him  the  expression  of  his  subjective  moods  and 
for  this  reason  reflect  so  essentially  the  man  and 
his  nature.  This  great  symphony  in  E  minor  is 
adjudged  by  leading  critics  to  be  the  ripest  fruit 
of  Tchaikowski 's  genius,  but  its  composition 
filled  him  with  distrust — not  only  during  its  con- 
ception and  composition,  but  even  after  its  suc- 

56 


TWO  SYMPHONIES 

cessful  production.  He  writes  to  his  brother 
Modeste  at  the  end  of  May,  1888:  "I  have  not 
yet  begun  to  work  excepting  at  some  correc- 
tions. To  speak  frankly,  I  feel  as  yet  no  impulse 
for  creative  work.  What  does  this  mean  ?  Have 
I  written  myself  out?  No  ideas?  No  inclination? 
Still  I  am  hoping  gradually  to  collect  material 
for  a  symphony.'*  In  June  he  settled  down  to 
earnest  work  and  writes  in  that  month  to  Mad- 
ame von  Meek,  to  whom  he  dedicated  his  fourth 
symphony,  "I  am  dreadfully  anxious  to  prove 
not  only  to  others,  but  also  to  myself,  that  I  am 
not  yet  played  out  as  a  composer.  Have  I  already 
told  you  that  I  intend  to  write  a  symphony  ? 
The  beginning  was  difficult;  now  however  in- 
spiration seems  to  have  come.  We  shall  see." 
On  August  26th  the  symphony  was  finished  and 
it  was  produced  in  November  at  a  Philharmonic 
concert  in  St.  Petersburg,  under  Tchaikowski's 
leadership.  In  spite  of  its  undoubted  success, 
Tchaikowski  writes  Mme.  von  Meek  in  Decem- 
ber: ''After  two  performances  of  my  new  sym- 
phony in  Petersburg  and  one  in  Prag,  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  a  failure.  There 
is  something  repellent,  something  superfluous, 
patchy  and  insincere,  which  the  public  instinct- 
ively recognizes.  It  was  obvious  to  me  that  the 
ovations  received  were  prompted  more  by  my 
earlier  work  and  that  the  symphony  itself  did  not 
really  please  the  audience.  The  consciousness 
of  this  brings  me  a  sharp  twinge  of  self-dissatis- 
faction. Am  I  really  played  out,  as  they  say  ? 
Can  I  merely  repeat  the  changes  on  my  earlier 
idiom  ?  Last  night  I  looked  through  our  sym- 
phony (the  fourth,  the  one  dedicated  to  her). 
What  a  difference!  How  immeasurably  superior 

57 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

it  is!  It  is  very,  very  sad!"  Yet  four  months  later 
he  was  able  to  write:  *'l  like  it  far  better  now, 
after  having  held  a  bad  opinion  of  it  for  some 
time."  How  strange  this  seems  to  us,  when  it 
has  taken  its  rightful  place  as  one  of  the  greatest 
modem  symphonies,  and  the  composer's  most 
inspired  work.  It  is  dedicated  to  Theodore  Ave 
Lallement  of  Hamburg.  Tchaikowski  relates  the 
following  in  his  diary  of  1888:  *This  venerable 
old  man,  over  80  years  of  age,  paid  me  great 
attention.  In  spite  of  his  age  and  infirmity,  he 
attended  two  rehearsals  and  the  concert.  Herr 
Lallement  candidly  confessed  that  many  of  my 
works  were  not  at  all  to  his  taste,  that  he  could 
not  endure  my  noisy  instrumentation  and  dis- 
liked my  use  of  the  instruments  of  percussion. 
For  all  that  he  thought  I  had  in  me  the  making 
of  a  very  good  German  composer.  Almost  with 
tears  in  his  eyes  he  besought  me  to  leave  Russia 
and  settle  permanently  in  Germany,  where  clas- 
sical conventions  and  the  traditions  of  a  high 
culture  could  not  fail  to  correct  my  faults,  which 
were  easily  explainable  to  his  mind  by  the  fact 
of  my  having  been  born  and  educated  in  a  coun- 
try so  unenlightened,  and  as  regards  progress, 
so  far  behind  Germany.  I  strove  my  best  to 
overcome  his  prejudice  against  our  national  sen- 
timents, of  which  moreover  he  was  quite  ignor- 
ant, or  knew  them  only  through  the  speeches  of 
the  Russophobist  section.  We  parted  good 
friends." 

It  is  just  this  national  element  which  gives  the 
Russian  school  its  great  force,  vitality,  and  orig- 
inality, which  has  given  music  a  new  impetus 
and  produced  a  leaven  very  necessary  for  the 
emasculated  state  it  was  being  led  into  by  com- 

58 


TWO  SYMPHONIES 

posers  who  had  little  to  say,  and  an  attenuated 
way  of  saying  it.  This  very  strength,  almost 
brutality,  of  the  Russian  school  is  its  power.  The 
Russians  have  found  something  new  to  say,  and 
a  large,  vigorous  way  of  expressing  it. 

This  great  Tchaikowski  symphony  is  built  on 
a  theme  which  constantly  recurs  in  all  four  of 
its  movements  and  is  called  its  motto.  Ernest 
Newman  says  of  it,  "The  gloomy,  mysterious 
opening  theme  suggests  the  leaden,  deliberate 
tread  of  fate",  and  its  sombre  influence  is  felt 
all  through  the  work;  even  in  the  waltz  we  do 
not  escape  it.  Tchaikowski 's  pessimism  and 
brooding  melancholy  never  leave  him  and  in  all 
his  compositions  we  feel  and  are  influenced  by 
these  qualities.  Beside  this  motto,  which  is  the 
chief  theme  of  the  symphony,  there  are  two  oth- 
er subjects,  and  these  three  form  the  basis  of  a 
most  elaborate  and  ingeniously  worked  out  first 
movement. 

The  second  movement  also  has  three  themes, 
the  first  a  wonderfully  beautiful  melody.  This 
has  traces  of  the  fateful  motto,  especially  toward 
the  end. 

The  third  movement,  the  waltz,  has  two  sub- 
jects; the  waltz  proper  and  a  light  staccato  coun- 
ter subject,  with  reminiscences  again  of  the  mot- 
to. The  last  movement  has  a  long  slow  intro- 
duction, passing  into  the  main  theme  marked 
Allegro  vivace  and  later  into  a  broad  sonorous 
march,  and  at  the  end  it  reverts  to  the  motto 
once  more  and  we  hear  again  "the  leaden  delib- 
erate tread  of  fate"  and  feel  its  inescapability. 

The  Dvorak  symphony  bears  the  title  "From 
the  New  World",  and  we  feel  the  freshness  and 
life  of  a  new  world  in  its  opening  phrases.    It  is 

59 


FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

full  of  our  real  American  contribution  to  music: 
ragtime;  for  syncopation  is  the  very  essence  of 
its  numerous  themes.  Syncopation  is  one  of  the 
oldest  devices  in  music  for  diverting  the  regular 
accents  all  rhythms  demand,  and  has  been  used 
by  all  composers;  but  it  remained  for  us  to  make 
a  cult  of  it,  and  the  result  of  our  distorted 
rhythms  is  ragtime.  Ragtime  may  be  a  natural 
result  of  our  overstrained  nervous  mode  of  life, 
but  it  is  an  artificial  growth,  designed  to  put 
more  snap  into  the  music  of  the  masses,  by  its 
irregular,  spasmodic,  jerky  accents.  The  negroes 
are  originally  responsible  for  our  present  out- 
break of  ragtime,  for  syncopation  is  a  natural 
element  of  their  great  musical  gift,  and  it  has 
gradually  been  absorbed  by  American  song  and 
dance  music  writers  and  elaborated  to  the  point 
of  license.  Our  present  addiction  to  unrestrained 
ragtime  is  a  positive  vice,  but  in  the  hands  of  a 
master  like  Dvorak  even  ragtime  becomes  a 
thing  of  beauty.  Most  of  his  themes  are  synco- 
pated and  they  sparkle  with  vivacity  and  move- 
ment and  have  the  true  folk  music  ring.  Dvorak 
is  without  doubt  the  most  eminent  folk  musician 
of  all  the  great  composers.  He  shows  such  sym- 
pathy with  and  delight  in  the  simple  tones  and 
rhythms  of  popular  utterance,  and  in  this  New 
World  symphony  he  has  used  them  for  the  high- 
est purposes  of  art. 

After  the  slow  introduction,  we  have  the  chief 
theme,  a  bold  and  syncopated  one,  which  reap- 
pears throughout  the  work.  This  is  immediately 
followed  by  a  short  answer,  then  a  second  theme, 
almost  a  jingle,  and  then  a  third  syncopated 
theme.  These  he  weaves  into  a  beautiful  first 
movement.  This  is  followed  by  the  slow  move- 

60 


TWO  SYMPHONIES 

ment,  which  begins  Largo  with  a  wonderfully 
plaintive  and  yearning  theme,  which  might  be  a 
negro  love  song;  following  this  comes  a  quicker 
episode,  the  second  theme,  which  gives  way 
again  to  the  first,  which  brings  the  movement  to  a 
lovely  close. 

The  third  movement,  a  rollicking  Scherzo,  is 
built  on  syncopated  themes,  three  of  them,  and 
has  a  sort  of  trio.  In  this  movement  we  have 
numerous  reminiscences  of  the  chief  theme  of  the 
first  movement.  In  fact  it  haunts  us  all  through 
the  symphony,  as  Tchaikowski's  motto  haunts 
us  through  his.  In  this  way,  the  sense  of 
homogeneity  is  preserved  throughout,  and  we 
feel  the  unity  of  a  composition. 

In  the  last  movement,  Allegro  con  fuoco,  we 
have  a  riot  of  folk  tune  and  dance.  The  first 
theme  is  essentially  negro  with  its  flat  seventh, 
and  it  has  a  march  rhythm,  another  resemblance 
to  the  Tchaikowski.  The  second  theme  is  rather 
plaintive,  but  it  is  soon  swallowed  up  in  the 
swing  of  the  movement,  when  suddenly  we  hear 
a  new  theme,  but  an  old  tune,  "Three  Blind 
Mice".  This  finale  is  a  gorgeous  piece  of  or- 
chestral writing,  filled  with  catchy  melody,  ele- 
vated to  the  plane  of  true  symphonic  art. 

When  Dvorak  comes  to  the  development 
periods  in  his  symphony  he  reverts  to  his  own 
national  idiom,  and  we  get  a  result  of  American- 
ism tinctured  with  Bohemianism  or  vice  versa,  a 
really  curious  mixture,  which  nevertheless  ful- 
fils the  formula  of  beautiful  music.  For  after  all 
music  has  no  boundaries,  no  limits  of  nationality 
or  geography.  All  peoples  call  it  the  universal 
language;  its  message  is  for  the  whole  world, 
and  the  world  is  fortunate  that  in  its  priceless 

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FAMILIAR  TALKS  ON  MUSIC 

heritage  of  musical  endeavor  it  possesses  these 
two  great  symphonies  of  Dvorak  and  Tchai- 
kowski. 


62 


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